Invincible
by Darth Marrs
Summary: "You are gathered here today because the world is going to end within the next three years," Hermione said succinctly. "But my husband, having died before, is in no hurry to do so again. We are here to try and save wizard kind itself." A Harry Potter/Battlestar Galactica Crossover, with a touch of 2012 fused in for the fun of it. Obviously not Epilogue Compliant.
1. Revelations

**Invincible**

An HP/2012/nBSG Crossover.

Author's Note: I don't normally borrow ideas from other fanfics, but I cannot deny that the idea behind this story is clearly inspired by Ynyr's _Voyage of the Starship Hedwig_. Ynyr's fic had an original crisis and plot (even if the abandoned sequel was a SW cross), while this one I chose to fuse with elements of the movie _2012_ , and cross with elements of the new _Battlestar Galactica_ after that. Nonetheless, Ynyr's story planted this seed, and so I give that author my thanks for writing an enjoyable piece, and inspiring this one. You'll find _Voyage of the Starship Hedwig_ in my C2, and the well-named but sadly abandoned sequel, _This Crude Matter_ , in my favorites.

Please note that the nBSG elements are fairly far off. Don't expect Adama to come storming Hogwarts. Although I admit that would be cool.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

 **Chapter One: Revelations**

July 31, 2008

Harry and Hermione stepped off the deck of Her Majesty's Ship _Cavalier_ , the only surviving British destroyer from World War Two. The ship rested now in Chatham Historic Dockyard as a museum ship, and Hermione took Harry on a tour for his twentieth-eighth birthday.

Harry Potter at twenty-eight looked distressingly similar to Harry Potter at seventeen, insofar as he had gained little in the way of height. He was heavier and stronger by several kilos of muscle, but the deprivation of his youth had forever robbed him of his father's height. In fact, Hermione was exactly as tall as he was.

Ginny was two inches taller than he was barefoot, and four inches in heels; this distressing height difference was his primary excuse for their breakup. "It's not right I had to stand on my tip-toes to kiss my girl," Harry was known to complain to his co-workers. Of course, none of them believed it any more than Harry himself did.

At least Hermione was the same height, and he appreciated that she usually wore flats. She told him it was because they were more practical, but he often suspected it was because she was just that nice. Harry appreciated her thoughtfulness—no one else in the DMLE had remembered his birthday, mainly because he made a point of downplaying it. As the youngest director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in its history, he was sensitive to anything that marked just how young he was.

Once upon a time, Harry and Hermione dreamed they would be happily paired with their respective Weasleys—Harry with Ginny, Hermione with Ron, and would be spending many happy birthdays together. The few times they all went out together were some of the happiest times Harry had ever had.

But then they finished growing up and realized without school and Voldemort they had nothing in common with the Weasleys. That wasn't to say that they didn't stay in touch, or that they had horrid rows.

Well, that wasn't true. The row that proved the last straw for Hermione and Ron was when she decided to continue on to her Ph.D., despite Ron's insistence that they get married and start having kids. Her "I'm not ready to be a housewife, Ronald," clashed with his, "I've been waiting for four years already!" and it was just not possible to bridge the two irreconcilable views on life.

Harry remembered holding Hermione's hair back from the loo the next morning as she sicked her guts out after a wildly uncharacteristic drinking binge that followed the row.

For him and Ginny, it wasn't an abrupt change. He started work as an auror the month after the Battle of Hogwarts, skipping training and his seventh year entirely. Within five years, he made captain; two years later, he made head auror. And a year later, Shacklebolt named him as the director. While Harry had no doubt there was political favoritism involved, he hadn't earned the grudging respect of his older aurors by being lazy or resting on his laurels. He regularly put in sixteen hour days and learned the ropes of the business quickly and well. His success in rounding up renegade Death Eaters and preventing more would-be Death Eaters from rising, went a long way to earning the respect of his department.

Ginny never saw him, and after a while stopped trying. He laughed about how tall she was, but Harry knew that, just as he did at the end of their sixth year, he pushed her away with the excuse of work. She was beautiful, vivacious, and everything he thought he needed, and yet he pushed her away anyway. And this time, Ginny couldn't wait for him.

So, they drifted apart. They remained friends, all of them, and Harry saw Ron on a regular basis working with Fred at the joke shop. But what had once been the closest friendship had turned rather casual. He found he had a lot more in common with his aurors Dennis Creevey or the older Davin Proudfoot than he did with Ron or Ginny.

"I wonder what it would have been like on that ship, during the war," Hermione wondered aloud, breaking his reverie.

"Crowded and boring, most likely," Harry said. "With occasional, short bouts of terror."

"Boring?" Hermione asked.

"Hermione, don't you remember how bored we were in that bloody tent? I mean, sure, we were scared, but the thing I remember most was boredom. And glimpses of you in the shower."

Hermione hit his shoulder, hard. "You didn't!"

"Blimey, let's think about this. Seventeen-year-old virgin sharing a tent with a beautiful, older woman? Hell yes, I looked. I always thought you knew."

Hermione huffed angrily a moment as they continued walking down the quay. A moment later, still frowning, she said, "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Did you like what you saw?"

"Merlin yes!" Harry enthused. "I was tempted to put it into my pensieve, but that felt wrong somehow."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione growled. "If I ever even think you did anything like that, I will make sure you never have need to wank again!"

Harry held up both hands in surrender. "Like I said, Hermione, it felt wrong even to me. I'm just saying…you're beautiful is all."

Hermione sniffed haughtily. "You had your chance, Harry."

"When?"

"Fourth Year. I waited for a week for you or Ron to ask me. I sat in my bed and cried for five nights straight. Do you think I wanted to date Viktor? The man's nose was larger than Snape's!"

"If it makes you feel better, I was a horrible date that night," Harry admitted.

"You wouldn't have been if you'd just asked me," Hermione pointed out, still bitter even after all these years.

"Well, we're on a date now, aren't we? After all, it _is_ my birthday."

Hermione thought about it. "What about that girl you were with last week?"

"Remember that bloke that attacked me, Shumar?"

"He hurt her?"

"No, he just scared the piss out of her, is all. Said she couldn't handle the stress of dating the DMLE director."

Hermione sniffed again. "Obviously not fit to date you, then."

Harry laughed, and said, "What about you and that Ravenclaw bloke, Dickley?"

"Dickerson, Harry. Michael Dickerson. He was quite pleasant, well mannered, cultured and a half-blood, so he wasn't opposed to doing things in Muggle London."

"And?"

Hermione frowned and pulled a strand of hair back from her face. "He was boring," she finally admitted. "Wanted to stay in each night reading and drinking port. I had to _beg_ him for sex. What kind of bloke doesn't want to shag his girl?"

"A gay one," Harry said without blinking an eye. "He was pushing for a Ministry job, wasn't he? There's still a lot of intolerance in the Ministry. Probably hoping for a sham marriage to hide his inclination, and a link to a war hero would really help his cause. You broke up, then?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted.

"So there you go!" Harry said. "Let's go to dinner tonight! Your choice, my treat. Consider it another birthday present that you don't even have to pay for!"

"Harry, I'm not going to shag you."

"Who said anything about shagging?" Harry said with a grin. "I'm just talking dinner."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

"Oh God, how could Ginny walk away from that?" Hermione said as she bit face down into her pillow, while Harry collapsed naked and sweaty to the mattress beside her.

"I keep telling you, I broke it off," Harry lied, though his happy, sweaty smile belied any heat to the statement. "Merlin's balls, Hermione, why didn't we ever hook up before this? That was bloody awesome!"

"I'll tell you why," Hermione said. "You didn't know a thing about girls, dating, or basic human interaction. And neither did I."

Harry's grin faded at the bitter, angry tone in her voice. Alarmed, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "What do you mean, Hermione?"

She rolled onto her side to face him, pulling sweaty hair from her face. "Think about it, Harry. You were raised in a bloody cupboard, for God's sake! I was an only child of two detached, loveless dentists. Dentists, if you didn't know, have one of the highest suicide rates of any profession in the world. My parents were miserable. Do you know Mum actually thanked me for wiping their memories and sending them to Australia? She thanked me after they divorced because when I restored their memories, it made them realize how unhappy they were. She also apologized for doing such a pissy job raising me."

Concerned over the increasing level of anger in her words, Harry reached over and pulled her close. "Where's this coming from, love?"

"Love," Hermione snorted. "That's just it, Harry; what did either of us know about love? Think about it. I've loved you since I was twelve years old and you were only eleven. I loved you, Harry. I would have—and did—anything for you. But because of how we were raised, we never realized what it meant. You were always so passive. That bint last week—I bet she came onto you, didn't she?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said.

"All your girlfriends do, Harry. It was Ginny who came onto you, though you might not have realized it. But she was sending you so many signals even you saw them. And Parvati after you and Ginny broke up just walked right up, kissed you, and said you were taking her out."

Harry grinned. "Yeah." The grin died as Hermione hit him.

"Listen, you prat," she said. The fact that slapping him made her breast jiggle momentarily blanked his mind. "Harry," she said more quietly. "Look at me."

The shift in tone broke his contemplation of her perfect breasts and made him look up. "Yeah?"

"You asked why we didn't hook up sooner? The answer is because we were broken, and never realized we should, or even could."

"And now?"

"We're together because your last girlfriend left you, and mine was using me to get a job," Hermione pointed out. "Did you think we'd be shagging like rabbits when you woke up this morning? It's been over a decade, Harry. We could have had the last decade together, if not for...for."

He stared as she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration and pain.

"I didn't see any of this coming," Harry admitted. Leaning forward, he cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly. "But now that it's happened, I don't think I could even look at anyone else again, because Merlin strike me down if I don't love you with everything I have."

Hermione blinked back watery eyes. "You'd better, after all the shite I did for you."

Harry laughed before bouncing up and over her. Hermione flattened out onto her stomach with a groan of anticipation. "Like bunnies," Harry said happily.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

They married six months later on December 31, 2008, to the cheers and applause of all their friends from Hogwarts and the Ministry. Almost the entire Auror Corps attended the lavish ceremony, while Neville as Harry's best man started off the traditional toast with, "It's about bloody time!"

Harry and Hermione both grinned and blushed at the wild cheers that erupted from their assembled guests at this basic truth that everyone could see but them. Ginny and her current flame were there, as was Ron and his new wife Lavender, and the two clapped as loudly and happily as the others.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Hermione was promoted to Senior Unspeakable in early February of 2009, and her first assignment was to assist the Indian Ministry of Magic with the mysterious die-offs of the Akupara tortoises.

She arrived by International Portkey in the sweltering humidity of Lake Kandgal, within the Bagalkot district of southern India. The first thing that caught her attention was an exquisite temple within walking distance. The second thing that caught her attention was the mountain-sized tortoise that was decomposing on the shores of the lake not fifty meters in front of her.

The smell struck within a heart-beat of her seeing the giant creature, and she had to cast a bubble-head charm to keep from gagging. The Indian Ministry Liaison appointed to assist her was one of a group of witches and wizards casting containment wards over the Akupara, a race of massive turtles that gave rise to many of the Indian creation myths. She saw Hermione and waived, walking toward her quickly.

"Hermione!" Padma Patil said with a smile despite the death on the banks of the river. She greeted her old schoolmate with a hug. "Congratulations on your promotion, and I heard from Parvati that you and Harry finally stopped being stupid!"

"Thanks Padma," Hermione said. Finally the Indian ministry officials completed the containment wards and instantly the air cleared. Hermione dismissed her bubble-head charm and stared at the two hundred meter tall, eight hundred meter long creature—the largest vertebrate on the planet, magical or otherwise. "God, it's so large."

Padma's face sobered. "I know. How does a supposedly immortal being die? That creature was at least four thousand years old. And not just one, this is the third we've found dead. The shamans are claiming it's the end of days."

"It's easy to believe when you see something like this," Hermione whispered.

"Thing is, Hermione, it's not just the Akupara. We found an entire nest of Nagas dead north of Mumbai, and in Rajahumndry, a flight of four Sampati eagles just fell dead out of the sky. Their magic…it was gone. Their bones were ruptured from within, as if something boiled the magic right out of them. We won't know for sure with the Akapara because its bones are so large, but we suspect something similar has happened here."

Hermione stared at her old classmate in horror. "How many species?"

"Come with me to the Ministry, and I'll show you."

Hermione surrendered control to Padma, who side-along Apparated her to the Indian Ministry of Magic building south of New Delhi. The Ministry occupied a former palace of some long lost khan and was more magnificent than anything England could ever boast of. Its golden domes rose high over the mostly flat Muggle neighborhood that had sprung up around it, ignorant of the magically warded structure in their midst.

Visits to places like India were good for Hermione, not because she enjoyed travelling (although she did) but because it was a good way for her to remind herself that Britain was not the center of the Universe. The Indian Ministry of Magic was easily five times as large as the British Ministry, both in terms of space and people, because the Indian population of magicals was easily ten times that of Britain, and in fact larger than all of Europe combined. Because of the crackdowns in China and the violent intolerance for magic in Islamic nations, India boasted the largest magical population in the whole world.

Walking through the vast, gilded halls of the palace, Hermione saw that huge population was terrified. From among the many workers approached an older man in white cotton churidars and Sherwani with a white turban that had the man's wand tucked into it. He bowed to Hermione. "Mrs. Potter, I am Senior Undersecretary Pandit Pradesh, welcome to our humble ministry."

"It is an honor," Hermione said, beaming. "When Padma told me about the wonders of her home, I could never have imagined it was even more spectacular than she described."

"And it is dying," Pradesh said with a tone of despair that made Hermione's heart stop. "Come with me, please."

He led them through the maze of the palace, through multiple lifts and stairs, until they arrived at a vast subterranean cavern. The cavern was lined with runically powered cooling charms that made Hermione shiver when she stepped through the sealed doorway into the cold air.

Her next shiver had nothing to do with the cold. Before her, spread across the cavern floor that stretched several times the square footage of a football field were white sheets covering what she could only guess were bodies. From the size and outline, some of the bodies were human. Beside her, Padma hissed in alarm. "Sir, these are new! How many?"

"The entire village of Tsurtisini fell dead," Pradesh said grimly. "Muggle food animals were unaffected, but any magical creature simply fell dead where they stood. The village was built over a Ley Line. We began looking at other magical enclaves on Ley Lines, and while not as drastic as Tsurtisini, there have been other deaths and severe illnesses, all involving magic. Two young children have been rendered Squibs, though they at least will survive."

Hermione walked to the nearest body in a stupor, leaning down to lift the sheet. Below was an older woman with iron-grey hair. Her eyes were open but sightless and gray, her skin gray while at the back of her head it had begun to turn black as the blood settled. With a glance back at the two others, Hermione removed her wand and began casting both diagnostic and recording spells over the body. Moments later, Padma knelt by the next one—a girl a decade younger than either of them, and did the same using Indian equivalents of the same spells.

"Padma," Hermione said softly, whether from respect for the dead or fear she couldn't say, "are you detecting radiation?"

"Yes," Padma said tightly, in the same soft tone. "Evidence of radiation. The radiation has burned the marrow of their bones completely away."

"That is the case for all the bodies," Pradesh said, obviously having performed the same tests.

Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed. "What could cause this?"

"I know a man who might be able to tell us," the old Indian Unspeakable said. "He is a Muggle, but he is a good scientist who works for the Muggle government. I shall give you his contact information."

"Thank you, sir. I agree, we need to go see him," Hermione said. "Let's go see him right now."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Padma and Hermione arrived by apparition at the Indian Institute of Astrophysics in Koramangala, Bangalore. They arrived on a small lawn surrounded by blocky white buildings. If anyone noticed their sudden appearance, no one commented on it.

"The Ministry has declared this a national emergency," Padma explained as she led Hermione toward the blocky white buildings that made up the Institute. "The man we are looking for has advised both the Muggle and Magical ministries in the past and is one of the few Muggles the Minister for Magic will actually listen to."

It took a brief search to find the desk, manned by students, so that they could make a call to Dr. Satnam Tsurutani. They were told he was in class, but at a flash of Padma's Ministry Badge, which like Hermione's Unspeakable Badge was charmed to show whatever the viewer would take most seriously, the student told them to go right in.

The auditorium where Dr. Tsurutani lectured was large enough to house fifty students comfortably, and it still had standing room only. Hermione noted with some contempt that it was filled with young men only. Hordes of dark eyes turned and stared as the two attractive witches quietly made their way into the lecture.

Tsurutani noted them but did not interrupt his lecture, which was on the particle emissions caused by solar flares. At last, he clapped his hands and said, "And that is enough for today. Thank you; remember your labs are next Tuesday."

His students clapped in appreciation, something that seemed very foreign to Hermione, before making their way out of the room. Almost all of them stared pointedly at Padma and Hermione. When the last was gone, Dr. Tsurutani smiled charmingly and said, "Ms. Patil, it is a pleasure to see you again. And who is your companion?"

"Dr. Tsurutani, it is my pleasure to introduce you to Mrs. Hermione Potter of the English Department of Mysteries. Mrs. Potter was recently assigned to help us with some recent tragedies that have occurred."

"Tragedies?"

"Magical beings are dying," Hermione said without preamble. "The magic appears to literally be boiled out of their bones."

"Most recently, an entire village dropped dead," Padma explained. "Hermione and I were just there, and during the examination of the bodies, we detected what appeared to be radiation."

Dr. Tsurutani stared at the two witches with wide eyes for a long moment before he said, "Come with me. Quietly."

He led them from the auditorium, through a series of narrow halls, until they arrived at a cramped, crowded office lined with full bookshelves and what looked like three networked computers and monitors. "Sit, please," he said.

The two witches took the rickety wooden chairs in front of his desk, while he walked around the desk itself and sat. "Tell me, do you know what effect radiation has on your people?"

"It's not widely published, but there were witches and wizards in Nagasaki," Hermione admitted. "A small magical enclave…" Her eyes widened as she brought a hand to cover her mouth. "Subsequent investigations showed that the entire village died with the first flash of the bomb, even though most Muggles initially survived in their area with burns. Many Muggles later died of radiation poisoning, but the magical enclave was wiped out instantaneously. Dr. Tsurutani, are you suggesting these people were killed by a fission device?"

"No, Mrs. Potter," Dr. Tsurutani said gravely. "They were killed by a fusion device. For the last six months I have been studying a series of massive solar flares that have been shooting microwave radiation into our planet. It has been heating the planet's core, to the point that in areas of thin crust, there has been a liquidation of the crust itself. This village, was it in a valley?"

"Yes," Padma said.

Tsurutani nodded sadly. "I have already informed my friend, Dr. Adrian Hensley, of what is happening. He is a geologist with the United States Geological Survey. The USGS, and the Indian Ministry, have both modeled all available data, and I must say things do not look good."

"What do you mean?" Padma asked.

Hermione, though, was processing what he already said and felt her stomach churning in terror. "God and Merlin," she whispered. "Are the flares going to stop any time soon?"

"We project the flares will continue unabated for another three to four years," Tsurutani said. "And if that is the case…it will be too late when they finally stop."

"I don't understand," Padma said.

"The liquidation of the tectonic plates would result in catastrophic continental displacement," Tsurutani said.

"The end of the world," Hermione translated. "Padma, he's talking about the end of the world."


	2. And I feel Fine

A/N: I have established a new form for review responses and general commentary for this story. If you made a review and want an answer-chances are that forum is where you'll find it. And if I didn't respond to your review but you want an answer, that's the place to go.

Happy 2019. Let's hope we survive it.

* * *

 **Chapter Two: …And I Feel Fine**

February 18th, 2009

Harry had dinner ready when Hermione returned home to Grimmauld Place. The home they lived in looked nothing like the home he inherited from Sirius Black. For one thing, it was completely wired to handle electricity using new, rubber-sheathed cable bundles that proved remarkably resistant to magic. It cost more, but the young, affluent magical couple found the expense well worth it.

They opened up many of the cramped rooms by removing the separating walls; they removed wall paper, painted and repaired surfaces, modernized the kitchen and bathrooms, and enclosed the attic to a fully functional exercise room. It was large enough that they regularly hosted friends or occasionally Hermione's mum with plenty of space for more if necessary. Luna and her equally dotty husband Rolf and starry-eyed twin children often stayed with them between trips.

When Hermione came through the floo after a day-long briefing with Minister Shacklebolt, she caught the scent of curry in the air, and despite the mounting terror she'd felt for the past week, she couldn't help but smile. It was her favorite dish and Harry made it for her upon returning from any travel that took her out of the house for more than a day.

He came out of the kitchen with a happy smile, swept her into his arms with a swirling dance which ended somehow with her pressed against his chest and his lips against hers. "Glad to have you back," he breathed after. "Dinner's ready."

He'd gone all out, too. Chicken curry with basmati rice and freshly made naan, and a rich red wine that perfectly complimented the meal. He even had a pair of candles to light their table. She saw all he'd done for her, and thought of all the other things he did for her on a regular basis, almost daily. Flowers (conjured if he couldn't find fresh ones), meals in bed, shoulder rubs on demand (the man's hands were almost as miraculous as his tongue); she had no doubt that he loved her because he made her _feel_ loved.

And yet the terror was there, clouding her enjoyment of what should have been a wonderful meal. She ate in silence, smiling as he detailed a sting operation he drew up and planned in detail, capturing two former Death Eaters who were smuggling Muggle drugs. It was a joint operation with Scotland Yard and scored points for Harry on both sides of Diagon Alley.

Midway through the meal, though, he slowed down in his narrative and kept looking at her keenly over the rims of his now rectangular glasses (round glasses did not provide sufficient coverage of his peripheral vision, didn't you know?). "Hermione, there's something I would like to say."

Realizing this was the perfect opportunity to share her terror, Hermione said, "Good, Harry, I do to."

"Okay. I think we should have a baby.

"The world is going to end."

Both froze and stared at the other. Hermione recovered first and said, "What did you say?"

"Bugger that, I think you have priority," Harry said flatly.

So, haltingly at first, Hermione told him about their research in India, and then her travel to the United States to speak with the American Department of Magic and the United States Geological Survey, and finally to Geneva where they met in a secret, closed session of the International Confederation of Wizards.

"The Arithmantic projections match up almost precisely with the Muggle computer projections," Hermione said. "Almost every continent will shift so profoundly that it will be impossible to survive on land. We'll experience a level of volcanism not seen for hundreds of millions, perhaps even millions of millions years and tsunamis miles high. More importantly, though, the increasing radiation will kill every magical being on earth well before the end."

Harry stared at her intently, listening with his whole being as he did when something was important. While Harry could never multi-task as well as Hermione could, he was capable of an astonishing level of attention on whatever task he did undertake. It would work against him as DMLE director if not for the fact that he was also an amazing judge of character with a capable and insanely loyal staff. He had no problem delegating to ensure that the many details were not lost in his single-minded pursuits.

Now he sat on the edge of his seat, holding both her hands on either side of the candles and staring at her with those beautiful green eyes of his, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world, while she told him with forced calm that the world itself was going to end.

"What is the ICW planning to do?" he finally asked.

"The Muggle governments are already drawing up plans," Hermione said. "They are planning on city-sized arks to stay afloat on the super-oceans that are undoubtedly going to form until the flares end and continents stabilize. It's actually a good idea—in every projection, magical or computerized, the oceans will remain. But Harry…that won't help us. The radiation is already there, and it's already slowly killing us. I had myself tested, as did Padma. Even Minister Shacklebolt is showing initial signs of radiation exposure. What might make Muggles sick will kill us completely."

Having held in the horror for so long, Hermione found she could no longer do so with her Harry staring so intently at her. The sobs came slowly at first, before bursting out in an uncontrolled torrent. Harry was around the table and holding her in a second—he could move so fast when he had reason. She collapsed into his arms, and he lifted her in those very same arms and carried her to the sitting room.

They made love for two hours straight that night, and spent another two hours simply holding each other and staring into the darkness.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Rolf Scamander was the first of their personal friends to die.

Two months after Hermione told Harry what was really happening, the naturalist—famed almost as much as his father—collapsed during the family's annual Snorcack Hunt with Luna and their children.

Harry was in his office working when the message came through—Luna Floo-called asking for him to come to Saint Mungos. Given that Luna was one of his oldest and dearest friends, and one of the few who did not begrudge his failed relationship with Ginny, he left immediately.

Even so, Rolf was already dead by the time he arrived. He found Luna staring despondently at the now empty bed, her wand as always tucked behind her ear. "Luna?" Harry asked.

"He's gone now," she said in an airy, empty voice. "I do wish we'd captured a Snorkack first, though. It would have made the hunts ever so much better."

Harry slowed his steps as he realized what had happened. "Where are your boys?"

"Staying with Daddy at the moment," she said.

Harry did not hesitate as he walked to her side and put an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him with a sigh. "He was smiling at me when it happened. I felt somewhat hot myself, being a summer day in the mountains, but his eyes took on an odd shade. Almost yellow, and he simply collapse and would not wake up. I scanned him—Harry, his magic was burning him up."

Harry bowed his head, realizing what had happened. "Luna, get your boys and bring them over tonight. You'll stay with us for now, okay?"

Luna did not even argue—she and her husband did not actually own a home. They simply travelled and stayed with friends when not travelling. "You know what happened, don't you?" she asked.

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. "Yes, but I think it's better if Hermione explained. Technically it's a secret, but I know I can trust you."

"Who else is coming?"

"After this? The DA at least," Harry said.

Luna nodded, hugged him tightly, and then to his surprise leaned up and kissed him. "I'm glad you and Hermione grew up enough to be together. I'd always hoped you would."

She wiped her eyes of the tears there and slowly walked out of the room where her husband died. After she was gone, Harry returned to work and hunted through the Ministry until he learned from an aide that his wife was once more meeting with the Minister. Harry decided to play on his position and name and pushed through the Minister's staff.

He knocked once, used an auror charm to release the wards on the door, and walked in. He was not surprised to see Kingsley Shacklbolt, Saul Croaker and Hermione; he was surprised to see Adrian Gautellier, the French Senior Undersecretary of Magic.

Kingsley's normally imperturbable face flashed with annoyance. "What are you doing, Harry?"

"Interrupting, Kingsley," Harry said with a forced smile. He closed the door and sealed it behind him. "Hermione, Rolf Scamander just died. Luna said his magic burned up within him."

Hermione placed the quill she was writing with on the desk and covered her face. "Oh Merlin. What about…?"

"They're going to be staying with us for now." Ignoring Shacklebolt's glares, he sat down beside his wife. "So, I've been a good little boy and pretended I didn't know what was happening because I knew my wife here was a lot smarter than I am, but friends are starting to die. So, what are we doing about this?"

"Minister, who is this boy and why is he here?" Gautellier said with a typical French sneer.

"I'm Harry Fucking Potter, that's who I am," Harry snapped. "And I'm the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. When people start dying, it becomes an issue for me. So, what are we doing?"

"Harry…" Hermione began.

"No, he's right," Kingsley decided with an exhausted sigh. "He needs to be a part of this discussion. I'm assuming your wife told you what is happening?"

"Yeah."

"We estimate the final cataclysm will begin in late 2012," Croaker said, not caring who was involved. "However, the radioactive saturation will be sufficient to wipe out all magical life by early to mid-2011. Since Mrs. Potter discovered the root cause, we've been experimenting with different materials to see if it is possible to stop the radiation."

"And?"

"It's impossible to block all radiation," Hermione said, "but the Muggles developed something called Demron that significantly reduces it. We're already very quietly started feeding the material into the robe shops for Hogwarts Robes. Headmistress McGonagall knows enough to know that all students need to wear those robes."

"That's a good idea for a short term fix, but what the general populace?" Harry asked. "What about magical creatures? What about magical fauna?"

Hermione bowed her head. "Harry, these arks the Muggles are building are going to be full of Muggle survivors and supplies. Our inquiries into having space on them was met with…"

"Laughter and contempt," Shacklebolt interrupted. "The Arks are the most expensive project the human race has ever constructed. Seats will be assigned to the most qualified and necessary staff, or for one billion dollars each for private investors. All the magical Ministries in the world would be able to buy perhaps twenty cabins; our economies are not based on huge sums of gold like the Muggles."

"And even if we had space on the boat," Gautellier said, finally accepting Harry was a part of the discussion, "and even wearing multiple layers of Demron fabric, the total saturation of the radiation would still most likely kill us, or at the very least render us infertile. We finally know why magical birthrates have been declining, but there is nothing we can do about it."

Harry looked at his wife with a raised brow; she nodded. "Once we knew what to look for, we matched the Muggle's studies with our own birthrates and found a ninety-eight-percent correlation between each spike of radiation and a full percent drop in birthrates."

"So what are we doing about it?" Harry demanded again.

Shacklebolt ran a hand over his bald head and released an explosive sigh. "We are preparing ourselves to die with dignity, Harry. The best Arithmancers in the world agree—this is the end. Go home, spend time with your wife, and live as best you can for the time we have left."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

That night, Harry and Hermione hosted many of their old friends from school. Luna was there, of course, cradling her two young boys—three and one respectively, and trying very hard not to cry. The boys were not old enough to understand precisely what happened, but were able to tell their mother was distraught and daddy was not there, and so were responding in kind to her heartbreak.

Fortunately, Ginny and her current flame, an American Quodpot player whose name Harry couldn't remember, was also there and took Lysander to bounce the baby on her knee. Since their breakup, Harry made an effort to get along with Ginny for the sake of his friendship with her brothers.

Ron was there with his wife Lavender; Lavender had her first-born on one knee, and Lorcan on the other while Luna looked on with a sad smile. Seamus and Dean were both still single and loving it. The surprise attendees were the Parvati twins, who floo'd in with somber faces. Dennis Creevey arrived with his current girlfriend, as did Fred Weasley and his wife Angelina.

With such a full house, they let Winky and Kreacher do the work of providing the food, while Harry and Hermione told their stunned friends what was happening.

"So Rolf's magic really did burn him out," Luna said softly, adding a final, unarguable punctuation to the discussion. "I rather thought so. I suppose I will be next soon—I felt quite hot when he died."

"We have Demron robes for all of you," Hermione said. "It will slow the effects of the radiation, at least for a while."

"Would it help to stay indoors?" Katie Bell asked. Like Dennis, she had become one of Harry's more accomplished aurors. Her motivation to enter the DMLE was just as personal as his own given how she was cursed during one of Draco Malfoy's bumbling assassination attempts on Dumbledore during Harry's seventh year.

It was Padma who answered. "No. India is already experiencing mass magical die-offs, and many of the fallen creatures are subterranean. The soil is already saturated with the radiation—it is that saturation which will eventually lead to the cataclysm that will destroy Muggle civilization as well."

They talked about the arks the Muggles were planning, and how those arks were not going to work for them, even if they could afford spaces aboard them. "Why not just build our own?" Ron asked.

"Because it wouldn't make any difference," Hermione said sadly. "The radiation would eventually either kill us or render us infertile anyway. The ICW has given up all hope. Right now their policy is to just keep things secret until the end so people can die as peaceably as possible."

"Bollocks," Seamus said.

"Yeah, I'm inclined to agree," Harry said. "Those of us in this room didn't fight Voldemort just to lay down and die a few years later. We're fighters. Now we need to figure out how to fight this. That's why I wanted to talk to you. I need ideas, no matter how crazy you might think them. We're not just going to give up."

Surprisingly, it was Dennis Creevey who gave them the idea. "Too bad we can't make our own _Battleship Yamoto_ or something like that."

"What's that?" Harry asked blankly.

"It was a Japanese cartoon," Dennis said with a fond smile at a childhood memory. "About a big spaceship. It was strange because the spaceship was shaped liked a Navy battleship, only it could fly in space."

"Flying wouldn't save us, though," Hermione said sadly.

Harry, though, looked speculatively at Dennis, lost in thought.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

"Hermione, how do brooms fly?"

The couple walked hand-in-hand through Blackpool, eating cotton candy while children played and laughed around them, none of them aware of the doom that was so quickly descending on the world.

"Oh, a combination of things, really," Hermione said absently. She was watching a pair of young girls on the bumper cars, her face lost in sadness. They would never live to see adulthood. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean specifically, what makes brooms fly?"

Hermione blinked her eyes to clear the melancholia and said, "Well, there is the basic levitation charm, of course, combined with a feather-light envelope that actually encompasses the rider. The propulsion charm, finally. I'm not an expert on brooms, of course."

"So, what makes it fly in relation to the Earth?" Harry said intently.

"Well, the magic is independent of the Earth," Hermione said. "Gravity is a universal constant, and the charms nullify it, so it doesn't matter if you're flying ten feet off the ground or twenty thousand feet off the ground, the flight experience would be the same."

"What about five hundred miles off the ground? Or ten thousand miles off the ground?"

"Harry, what are you on about?"

"What makes things fly, Hermione?" Harry asked again more intently. "Magically speaking? Could a charmed broom go into space?"

She smiled at him, though confused. "I suppose so. There is the story of Delbert Dinglebart who vowed in 1802 to fly to the moon. Astrologers say he did leave the atmosphere but then flew in circles and burned up on re-entry. They suspect he was dead long before then since he had no idea that the vacuum of space was lethal."

Harry nodded and said, "I'd like to show you something. Do you trust me?"

"Silly question at this point, don't you think?"

Harry winked at her, quickly cast a silent _Notice-me-not_ , and then took her hand to disapparate. They appeared with a hardly noticeable pop, still under the charm, on what looked at first glance to be a large, black metal tennis court. That impression faded before the sound of waves, sea birds, the overwhelming smell of the ocean, and a series of towers rising from the flat deck of what was obviously a ship.

"Where are we?"

"Portsmouth," Harry said.

"We just apparated the whole length of England?" Hermione asked. She then shook her head and smiled—Harry was powerful, that much was certain. "So, what is this?"

"This, my love, is the HMS _Invincible._ It's been laid up, and from what I understand the government is entertaining bids on it. It is a light aircraft carrier. So, let me ask you—what would it take to make something that weights 22,000 tones fly?"

Hermione simply stared. "Harry, I know what you're thinking, but it just wouldn't work. These ships are not capable of surviving in a vacuum."

"Hermione," Harry said with startling intensity. "I'm not ready to just lay down and die. We _just_ found each other, for Merlin's sake. I want to live the next century loving you, and I refuse to just lay down and die. So, brightest witch of her age, what would it take to actually make this ship space worthy? How would we make it fly, or escape Earth's gravity? Could we adopt apparition or portkeys to propel it through space? We've got to at least try, Hermione, or what's the point of living at all?"

Hermione stared back at him, lips parted and cheeks flushed with the deep, intense knowledge that this man loved her enough to defy fate itself. "Okay, Harry," she finally said. "We'll give it a try."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Harry decided to keep it a privately-funded affair after a three hour meeting with a despondent Kingsley Shacklebolt. The tall, deep-voiced, powerful former auror had clearly given up and now seemed opposed to even trying to figure out a solution. When Harry mentioned possibly charming a ship to leave the world to ride out the worst of the radiation in deep space, he actually became angry.

"A false hope is worse than a grim truth!" the large man shouted at Harry.

"I know for a fact that's a lie," Harry said pointedly.

Harry's flay rebuttal calmed Shacklebolt enough for him to sit back down. "Harry, the Wizengamot and the ICW are both in agreement. We are creating a magical archive to record that we were here—that we existed. We will not perish from the memories of those that remain. Our best projections show that muggleborns will emerge in time if enough muggles survive. The archive will seek them out, and our society will survive for future generations."

"Good on them," Harry said bitterly. "I'm more interested in my generation."

"I'm sorry, Harry, but the answer is no."

So, they kept it privately funded.

Between the Potter and Black fortunes, Harry had nearly four hundred thousand galleons. Compared to a Muggle millionaire, that did not seem much at first glance, until Harry and Hermione began to inquire about conversion rates.

The Galleon was not pure gold, but rather gold and enchanted steel that prevented counterfeit. Even so, the conversion rate was fifteen pounds to a galleon. This explained how Harry, as a Department Head, made twenty thousand galleons annually and counted it a good salary, and Hermione as an Unspeakable made eighteen thousand, putting their income in the top ten percent of the country. In Muggle terms, they were making close to five hundred and forty thousand pounds annually.

Harry used his contacts within Scotland Yard to make inquiries to the Department of Defence regarding the private purchase of the HMS _Invincible_ , and how much the department would be willing to take for it. During his meeting with Department of Defence, which knew very well what was happening, he was surprised to find that the two best offers for the stripped, laid-up carrier was five million from the Chinese, and two million from a Turkish scrapyard. Of the two, the Chinese offer was not being considered because of China's interest in militarized carriers.

"I'll offer two and half, straight cash," Harry said without hesitation.

After converting roughly one hundred and seventy thousand galleons, Harry was the proud owner of the HMS _Invincible_ , which had no engines, no weapons, no planes, and an old, rusting hull.

"It's perfect," he told Hermione as they walked through the massive, empty hangar deck. "If we can figure out permanent or long-term expansion charms, just imagine how much space we could open up in here?"

"It'll have to be a lot," Hermione said. "The Muggle Arks are designed to hold a quarter of a million people each. If we want to have any hope of a viable population, we're going to need a lot of space."

Harry just hugged her. "So, where do we start?"

"Where everything always starts—at Hogwarts," Hermione said.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

McGonagall's eyes held unshed tears when Hermione and Harry finished their conversation with the Headmistress. Instead of speaking, the aging witch stood from her desk, which Harry noted was not the same one Dumbledore used, and walked slowly to the floo. With a pinch of powder, the flame roared up and she leaned over and stuck her face in the fire.

She left the flame and returned to her desk, leaving Harry and Hermione to wonder what was happening until the fire flared green and Minister Shacklebolt stepped out.

When he assumed office shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, he was a tall, strong man with broad shoulders and a mellifluous voice that could sway any opponent. Now he looked tired, had lost a lot of weight, and walked with bowed shoulders as if in defeat. His voice, however, was still beautiful.

"I was wondering how long it would take you to get here," he said with a weak smile as he took a chair beside Hermione with a sigh.

"Kingsley, what's happening?" Harry asked. "You said no, remember?"

The Minister locked Harry in a knowing gaze. "Harry, it might surprise you to learn just how little power the Minister for Magic has, at least now. What I wasn't allowed to tell you at the Ministry is that the Goblins have approached certain leading Wizengamot families and offered them space in the Gringotts cavern. The Goblins say they have their own prophecy and they're sure they'll survive. The Purebloods have pounced on this as a chance to ensure only they survive, while the impure and so called blood traitors all die."

"Malfoy," Harry snarled.

"Among many, yes," Kingsley said. "They dislike me, but they hate you, and the Goblins hate everybody. So, officially speaking, I cannot help you. But if Hogwarts were to initiate an interscholastic magic competition—well, that I could help with. And the American and French Ministries, at least, would as well."

Harry couldn't help but smile. They may not succeed, but by Merlin they were going to try!


	3. Dry Dock

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews. Review responses (including a thoughtful and precise discussion about the fascinating science behind the movie 2012 that informs this story) are posted in my forums like normal. I'm hoping that this chapter will give you firm grip on the approach I'm taking. _Invincible_ is, first and foremost, a disaster fic. Them building the ship to escape earth _is_ the first arc of the two-arc story.

I hope you enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter Three: Dry Dock**

May 1, 2009

The four witches and wizards Harry invited arrived on the deck of the HMS _Invincible_ by portkey. The first was a tall, lanky young man with shaggy blond-brown hair and thick glasses dressed in a well-worn plaid button-up and khakis. He carried what looked like a metallic wand in his breast pocket, along with several Muggle-style pens and a notepad.

"Daniel Webber?" Harry guessed as he stepped forward.

"Got it," the American Wizard said in a high-pitched, nasal voice. They shook hands as more guests began to arrive.

Harry looked to the short, brunette woman with the long, Gallic nose and curves that made even Harry notice. "And you must be Sandra Guillemot?"

"Oui," she said. Then, in perfect English, she said, "And you are Harry Potter? I am acquainted with a young witch in my research team who speaks of you all the time. Perhaps you remember Gabrielle Delacour?"

Harry grinned. "She was cute as a button. I believe I last saw her at her sister's wedding."

"Indeed."

Harry turned to the tall, raw-boned blond man. "Niklas Schonberg," the man said with a sharp bow. He had a hint of a German accent, but spoke English perfectly.

Next Harry introduced himself to a thin, fragile-looking woman who was looking around the ship with wide, cloudy blue eyes. Something about her reminded him of Luna, actually. "And you must be Cassandra Appolline?"

She blinked and looked back at him, before forcing herself to smile. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Thank you for saving me."

Harry blinked back in surprise at that, while the others looked on in silence. "While I have to admit with my line of work it's possible, I don't remember having saved you."

"You haven't yet, but you will. Actually, you have by inviting me here."

"Well, Luna did recommend you, but I…"

Just then Hermione arrived with Luna, and their last pair to join them. Padma Patil arrived with a loud, clumsy pop next to a man in white traditional Indian garb. He stumbled, looking distinctly ill, while Padma's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. "Sorry," she said to everyone. "It's difficult to side-along a Muggle."

The other witches and wizards stared at the Indian man in surprise.

"And this must be Dr. Satnam Tsurutani," Harry said, striding up to the man. "Are you quite alright, doctor?"

"Satnam, please," the man said with a raised hand to ward off help. "We arrived at Heathrow this morning, but Ms. Patil did not think we could make it to Portsmouth in time. Your teleportation method is hard on my body."

"It really is," Harry agreed. "My first time I was almost sick. We do have tea and refreshments in the island, if you come with me."

Harry led them up a series of stairs to the conning tower of the old, abandoned carrier. When they arrived on the bridge, the newcomers discovered a table with chairs waiting, and to one side a bar and buffet. The American, Webber, saw some of the drink offerings and smirked. "Expecting a party?"

"No, Mr. Webber," Hermione said curtly, "but we do expect some of you might need it later. Please sit, all of you. I am, having met you all, Hermione Potter of the British Department of Mysteries. I hold masteries in Arithmancy and a Doctorate in Physics from Kings College. You are here because you all have similar resumes, and also because you all signed the confidentiality agreements."

"Yes, those were rather extreme," Sandra Guillemot said. "It did, however, make me curious. So why are we here?"

"The world is going to end," Cassandra said.

Niklas Schonberg snorted. "Ahh, the infamous seer speaks. Weren't you the one who also said California was going to fall into the ocean in 2012?"

"That's actually very likely," Hermione said.

Schonberg's snort turned to an incredulous stare. "Excuse me?"

"Mrs. Potter is quite correct," Satnam said with his clipped, Indo-English accent. "Given the sheer tectonic upheaval we are expecting, it is likely everything west of the San Andreas fault in California will fall into the ocean. The rest will be covered by the tsunamis that follow.

"You are gathered here today because the world is going to end within the next three years," Hermione said succinctly. "However, even before that, we will all be dead of radiation poisoning. The Earth is literally being microwaved to death by intense solar activity. But my husband, having died before, is in no hurry to do so again. This isn't just an interscholastic project to see if we can make this old ship fly. We are here to try and save wizard kind itself."

"This can't be true," Guillamot declared. "The Ministries would have done something!"

"They are," Harry said darkly. "They're putting together a time capsule so any future muggleborn know about us. And then they expect us to all lay down and die peacefully."

"The ICW and all its signatory ministries believe that the coming event is not survivable," Hermione explained dryly. "They believe spreading the news will only give rise to panic. However, the die-offs have already begun."

"I read about the giant tortoises in India," Webber said softly, eyes-wide.

"But not about the villages that have also dropped dead," Padma said sadly. "Over twenty thousand witches and wizards have already died in India. Other ministries in equatorial nations are hiding similar numbers. It will start here and in the further south hemisphere soon enough."

"And that brings us here," Harry said. "For the record, I refuse to lay down and die quietly. I liquidated most of my estate to buy this carrier, and because of that I cannot promise anyone money. The British Ministry of Magic has publicly refused to provide any funding or help, and the ICW is actually considering laws to try and prevent us from proceeding. We are getting some grants from our Ministry for a scholastic project, and I used what political pull I have at least to stop the ICW move, but the point remains this is going to remain a primarily private venture."

"We cannot pay you," Hermione said. "At least, not in money. Instead, what we will offer is a berth for you and your friends and family each. All of our friends and colleagues from the war against Voldemort will be joining us, donating both time and money. We have already begun stockpiling food, potions supplies, and using drought of living death we've also managed to capture small breeding populations for several magical creatures. Without magical creatures, wand-crafting will be a problem."

"Not really," the American named Webber said. "We've shown that monocarbon filaments conduct magic without the need for individual fitting." To demonstrate, he removed a six-inch metallic tube from his shirt pocket and conjured a small flock of birds which quickly flew out of the open windows of the island. "Not to say we shouldn't save what we can, but focusing our magic won't be a problem." The young man pulled hair from his eyes. "So, what you're suggesting is what—we turn this into a spaceship?"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting," Harry said.

Webber grinned. "Cool. Who can I bring in?"

"Anyone you need," Harry said. "Anyone who helps gets the same deal—berths for friends and family. However, everyone will need to sign the confidentiality disclosures. If word gets out about this ship when the truth is revealed, every witch and wizard in the world will come for it."

"How will you pick who comes and goes?" Guillemot asked.

"I won't lie to you," Harry said. "Right now, I'm interested in saving me and mine. And if you help, then you and yours. Because this is officially a private, non-governmental effort, I cannot be interested in all the nationalities of the world, nor will I even try to save everyone. We can't, and trying could slow us down to the point of failure. So, if we have room beyond the 30 berths for each of those who help, we'll expand the berth allotments to fifty. Then to a hundred if need be. We'll open up berths to people who can bring food, or expertise. We'll need skilled magical farmers, herbologists, as well as diviners, arithmancers, Runes experts, technomages—whatever we can find. I will say for the record, though, that several schools will be providing assistance, and so their students and families will likely come as well."

"What about Doctor Tsurutani?" Padma asked.

"I am here to help you with the radiation," he said. "However, I and my family have been promised a spot on the American ark because of my work with the USGS."

"And we cannot thank you enough for your help," Harry said to him. He turned to the others. "So, ladies and gentlemen, what do you say?"

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

When the nearly two hundred and ten meter long ship appeared by mass portkey in the waters of the Black Lake a mile from Hogwarts, the assembled students of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Salem's and Livermorny all cheered wildly at what they were led to believe was an inter-scholastic technomagery project spearheaded by the indomitable Minerva McGonagall. Unfortunately, Durmstrang decided it would not participate due to the celebrations of its 800th year of operations as a school, and Harry could not afford to tell them in detail why his project was more important than their celebration. Equally unfortunate, the Brazilian ministry was at political odds with Britain and refused to even speak about it.

While Harry liked McGonagall, his experiences with her in school had always interfered with his ability to respect her. The whole Umbridge issue really ruined his relationship. But when she stepped in as headmistress of the oldest, most prestigious school of magic in the world and spread the word without specific detail that Harry Potter was founding a new project that was important for all of magic, he could only look on with awe as the other major schools responded. And because it was being billed an interscholastic exercise of technomagery, with the full support of the leading academic institutions magic, the ICW did not have the wherewithal to interfere.

Unofficially, Shacklebolt raided the Ministry emergency coffers without the Wizengamot's knowledge and gave Hogwarts several huge grants.

And so on a brisk morning on May 20th, the decommissioned, hollowed out light air crafter carrier HMS _Invincible_ appeared with an explosive rush of displaced air and a high wave of displaced water in the Black Lake near Hogwarts, to the cheering of almost six thousand students and faculty from the leading schools of magic in the northwestern hemisphere.

Harry stood on the deck of the dead ship as wizards and witches summoned it gently toward the recently constructed concrete and wood dry dock they would use, and felt his heart skip a beat. Not because he was glad to see them. Harry felt a deep despair that these children who looked so happy now were going to be facing a nightmare no one in the history of their race had ever had to imagine before.

McGonagall appeared next to him with a pop. "Mr. Potter, your ship looks a little worn."

Harry laughed, and then on a spur of the moment hugged the old witch. "It's seen better days, but I think she still has some spirit in her."

"I trust you're talking about the ship," she said, though with an upturned curve of her lips. "I'm afraid it will take some brute magical power to enclose the dry dock. Your lovely wife has assured me that whatever you might have lacked in your education, you have more than your share of magic to help?"

Harry grinned back. "I try not to brag."

McGonagall laughed.

In the end, it took Harry, Neville Longbottom, his wife Hannah, and ten other wizards and witches to raise the concrete barrier to enclose the dry dock. They drained the water at first through a vanished hole in the wall by the water's edge, but after that they simply did group banishments until all traces of water was gone, revealing the barnacle-encrusted, rusting hull of the old ship.

"Well, that was the easy part," Harry declared. Even he could not imagine how right he was.

While Hermione herded the technical leads of the project into an orientation meeting, Harry used his own expertise to make the site safe. He placed cushioning charms all along the floor of the dry dock and then used large granite rocks and hard-learned warding skills to place powerful anti-apparition, anti-portkey and Muggle-repelling wards over the whole construction site. He then cast the unplottable charm, just to be safe.

Most of the old Dumbledore's Army had arrived on site or moved to Hogsmeade to better be a part of it, and those that did not have technical expertise Harry appointed to run security. Having over a decade of experience as first an auror, then head of the department, Harry had more than sufficient experience to visualize what could happen when news began to leak of what was coming.

He then wandered over to what used to be the dock house, but which had been converted and expanded into the project headquarters—a spacious, three story stone and glass building that looked surprisingly modern considering they built it in a matter of weeks.

The storm he walked into, however, was the first sign things were already not going well. Daniel Webber and a pair of his colleagues from America were shouting loudly at Guillemot and Madam Maxine herself about things Harry only dimly understood. Hermione met his eyes from across the room and already she looked frazzled.

Harry snapped off a noisemaking charm that silenced the room. Rather than say anything, he walked all the way into the auditorium-like room toward the large round table where the hopefully principle leads of the project were sitting.

"Thank you," he said with forced calm. "For those of you who do not know, I am Harry Potter. That's my boat out there we will be working on; I am project lead. Those of you I originally approached are aware of this. But those that Minerva brought it in need to know I am ultimately in charge as well."

Madame Maxine sniffed. "And what, pray tell, makes you qualified to be lead?" she asked in a thick, condescending accent. "Did you understand even a fraction of what was being discussed?"

Harry pointed to Webber. "I know he wanted to do something new. And you and Sandra did not want to try it because you were sure it would fail. I don't need to know the specific details, Madame. My job is not to do the science or the theoretical magic. It's to handle those who do. We're here to do something that has never been done before—to break new ground both in magic and technology never attempted before. And the consequence of failure is so…well, let's just say failure is not an option."

"We do not need to be handled!" Maxine snapped angrily.

"With respect, madame, the display I just saw proves otherwise." Harry met the formidable witch's gaze plainly and held it. He did not consider himself the smartest or even the most powerful wizard alive, but he had stared into the eyes of Voldemort, and in fact death itself, without flinching. Maxime dropped her gaze first, and then slowly sat down.

"Thank you," Harry said with an earnest nod. According to Minerva, Madame Maxime was to charms what McGonagall herself was to Transfiguration. "And thank you all for being here, and for your commitments and the commitments of those students who will be working through the summer. Those of you in this room are the only members of the project to have signed the confidentiality agreement, and so you know exactly what we're doing and why. We project we have exactly two years to finish this project before the radiation saturation reaches the point where we simply fall dead. We've made demron clothes and caps to help provide some shielding, and we will be putting up an iron-plated dome over the dry dock in the months to come to help make a safer work environment, but we are all in constant danger. Most of you know my wife, Dr. Hermione Granger of the British Department of Mysteries. Hermione?"

He stepped aside, and Hermione passed him a smile. He knew why she lost control the moment he walked in. Hermione, being vastly intelligent and organized, tried to wrangle a herd of cats with logic. Harry, having led the largest single department in the Ministry for five years now, was actually quite good at herding cats because it had nothing to do with logic.

"Thank you, Harry." She conjured a chalk board, but rather than write she used her wand to conjure her presentation. "We have several major projects we need to develop simultaneously. So far, our efforts have been haphazard, but that can't continue like that. Each of these projects are interdependent and absolutely essential. First is engineering. Leading this initiative is Dr. Daniel Webber and his colleague Dr. Samuel Waterstone, who aside from a teaching position at Livermorny also worked for the American National Aeronatics and Space Administration as a space shuttle engineer for ten years. He is, for lack of a better term, a magical rocket scientist."

Where Webber was a young, overly thin man with too long hair, Waterstone was a short, overweight wizard with balding hair and bright red cheeks and nose. He nodded genially to everyone. "This department is charged with making the _Invincible_ flight and space worthy," Hermione continued. "The challenges of propulsion and power will fall under this initiative as well."

She conjured a second bullet point. "The second initiative is environmental systems. We need to have, as much as possible, a self-sustaining environment capable of supporting life. My colleague from the Indian Department of Mysteries, Padma Patil, will be leading this initiative. This initiative will also include food supplies for all passengers, human or otherwise."

Another bullet point. "The third initiative is Preservation. We are facing the complete extinction of all magical life on Earth. It is not enough for us to save ourselves. Our magic, our economy, and our vary lives are intertwined with other magical creatures. I will not lie and claim that we are motivated by altruism, as we may very well decide not to take those races and creatures that have been antithetical to wizards and witches in the past, but it is in our own interest to preserve as much magical flora and fauna as possible. In this area, I have appointed renowned crypto zoologist and dear friend, Luna Lovegood as project lead. Helping her will be Professor Neville Longbottom, former auror and newly appointed professor of Herbology here at Hogwarts."

"The fourth initiative is astronavigation. Are we simply going to stay in orbit around Earth and wait for the decades necessary for the planet to become hospitable again, or is there a way to find another home? Leading this project will be our own Aurora Sinistra, and her fellow astrologer Cassandra Appolline."

The experts in the room listened in utter silence, and Harry could see doubt and worry on many of the faces there. It was their expressions, more than anything, that made Harry realize just how challenging this was going to be.

"The final initiative is Medical," Hermione finished. "On this last group falls the challenge of keeping everyone alive long enough to actually escape, and to keep us alive and healthy when we do. This group will also have to insure we have sufficient medical supplies and a means of replenishing those supplies for a prolonged period. We are actively recruiting someone to head this initiative and are open to any suggestions. So, any questions?"

One of the French contingent stood. "Do you really think you can pull this off, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shrugged. "We have to at least try."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Two days after the theoretical work began Harry took an international portkey to Geneva where an annual Healer's Conference was being sponsored by the International Confederation of Wizards. Harry was curious what sorts of lies were being told to the healing community to hide the more and more obvious deaths.

But mainly, his godson Teddy's grandmother asked him to come.

Harry only found out after the war that Andromeda Tonks was one of the leading healers in Saint Mungo's. It seemed odd that a woman with more than a passing similarity to Bellatrix Lestrange should be a healer, until in retrospect he realized it was precisely because of the evil she was raised with that Andromeda felt the need to go into magical healing.

He met the older woman near a café cart just a few meters from the edge of Lake Leman. She wore a comfortable, thick satin dress of a dark green that suited her brunette hair. "Hello, Harry," she said with a pleasant smile. While she and Harry were not emotionally close, the fact that he had actively played such a role in Teddy's life helped her accept him despite the death of her whole family during a war he had a large part in.

He hugged her. "Andromeda. That's a lovely dress."

"Isn't it? What's the point of coming to Switzerland if you don't shop? So, I heard the most interesting rumor about you."

Andromeda had signed a confidentiality agreement—as the grandmother of his only godson, Harry had no intention of leaving her or Teddy behind. "Oh?"

"Did you really stare _the_ Olympe Maxime down in an open meeting?"

"I had my first staring match with Voldemort when I was eleven," Harry said with a shrug. "It's not that big of a deal for me."

Andromeda sipped her latte. "I truly wish I had been there to see it. Olympe, and Olympe alone, was the reason Nymphadora went to Hogwarts and not Beauxbatons. Oh, and here she is."

She stood, focusing on someone behind Harry, so naturally he stood and turned. The newcomer was an attractive, older woman with curled, dark blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She wore tan slacks and a white, long-sleeved blouse with slightly padded shoulders. Her demeanor screamed competence and reminded Harry a little of Amelia Bones, dead these past twelve years.

"Harry, this is my dear friend Doctor Samantha Barnes of the Franklin Institute in Boston. Samantha, Harry Potter."

Her grip was firm. "Mr. Potter, a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise. Would you like a coffee?"

"No, thank you," she said as she sat. "When Andromeda floo'd, it just provided an excuse to leave that circus I've been attending for the past few days. Can you believe they're trying to tell us the death of a magical village in Arizona was just dragon pox? A whole village of two hundred people dropping dead was not dragon pox!"

Harry glanced at Andromeda. "Doctor Barnes, can I ask what you do at the Franklin Institute?"

"I'm head of magical diagnostics. Before that, I was lead healer."

"Samantha here has been the American ICW medical envoy for the past five years, and has served as Healing Advisor to Secretary Gooly ten years ago."

 _Impressive_. "Well, we're recruiting for a department head position in my organization that you might be interested in," Harry said with a grin.

Doctor Barnes laughed. "Mr. Potter, I doubt there is enough money in England to lure me away from Franklin's. I have the best equipment, almost unlimited funding and a staff of the best and brightest."

"Actually, Doctor, we wouldn't pay you. In fact, you would likely end up having to buy much of your own equipment. And even knowing that, I have no doubt you will still consider it seriously."

One elegant brow rose. "That's an interesting statement, Mr. Potter. What makes you so sure?"

"Because I know why that village in Arizona died. However, I have been formally forbidden from discussing it by both my Ministry and the ICW unless you sign a magically binding confidentiality clause." He produced the long, charmed agreement. "While I agree with the confidentiality, the member nations of the ICW are adamant that this news not be released, and I've heard rumors they are being aggressive in keeping it secret, using obliviators from all member nations."

Barnes pursed her lips in thought as she read through the parchment. Harry saw with approval that she did not skim, but in fact read every word slowly, going back and re-reading sections on three separate occasions. "This is a powerful binding," she finally said.

"I know, and I apologize for the necessity."

Barnes put it down and regarded not Harry, but Andromeda. The other woman nodded. "I signed mine a month ago. For my grandson, if for no other reason."

With that simple testimony, Barnes flicked her right arm and produced her wand from a holster hidden in her sleeve. She touched her wand to the parchment and agreed to the binding. "So, what's going on?" she finally asked.

"The world is ending as a result of an increase in microwave radiation liquefying the earths' crust," Harry said. "My wife says the resulting M-radiation has what she called a _Nagasaki_ effect on magicals. The die offs started in large numbers in India. We have two years before Earth becomes uninhabitable for all magical life, and a year after that, the world itself ends for the rest of humanity as well."

The doctor went very, very still for the longest time as she stared from Harry to Andromeda. She opened her mouth to speak twice, and both times changed her mind. Harry could almost see as she put the pieces together and admired the sheer intelligence the woman displayed. Looking at her, he wondered if he was looking at what Hermione could be after a few years, and decided that he just really liked smart women.

"I believe you," Barnes finally said. "I knew one of the First Responders to the Arizona incident. They told me the dead had radiation in their bones, but an hour later insisted it was Dragon Pox. His memory was charmed, it's the only explanation."

"Every magical authority around the world has confirmed that even if the Muggles survive, no magical organism will," Harry said. "The radiation is pervasive. There will be nowhere on Earth any witch or wizard can survive."

"So what are you proposing, Mr. Potter?"

"To get as many witches and wizards off the Earth as I can. I'm making a magical space ship, Doctor Barnes, and it so happens we need a medical director. The salary is non-existent, the hours are going to be soul-crushing, but it will afford you and thirty friends and family a place on board if the ship actually works."

"Friends and…you're not even trying to be fair, are you?"

Harry shrugged. "What is fair, Doctor Barnes? The ICW and its member ministries have decided that we are going to die. I'm leading a private initiative to live against their wishes. That means I've had to make very hard decisions. I cannot save everyone—even trying will ensure failure. So my first concern is me and mine. If you join me, that will extend to yours as well. And only then will we consider other experts. Oh, and when I say me and mine, that includes all of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, Salems and Livermorny—students and families."

"Well, you've certainly got my attention," Doctor Barnes said.

She started four days later.

* * *

A/N-The first part of this story was written years before the Fanstastical Beasts movie. Livermory in this story was Miskatonic. I did a last minute substitution to change the name, but if you see any Miskatonic's seep in, that's why.

Thanks for reading.


	4. Building the Ark

A/N: Chap 3 review responses are in my forums like normal, including a note on the great Livermory debacle of 2019. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Four: Building the Ark**

August 23, 2009

"It doesn't look like a ship anymore," Harry said in a small voice as he looked over the proposed schematics the engineering team submitted for approval.

Hermione, who was leafing through a dozen sheets of paper, looked up at her husband and said, "Harry, if you love me, you will never say that in public, please."

"But it doesn't!"

"Did you really think we were going to fly an old, rusted Muggle aircraft carrier into space?"

"Well…"

"Never mind, don't answer that," Hermione said with a puff of air to blow hair from her eyes. She evidently knew about his watching Creevey's _Battleship Yamoto_ cartoons. She put down the papers she was looking over and walked around the desk in their small apartment in Hogsmeade. The town had experienced a sudden population explosion with the influx of those working on the project.

"Harry, right now there are a total of seven thousand and fifty two people promised to that ship. We hope to have several times that many before we leave. The ship as configured could not possibly fit that many."

"We're going to use expansion charms, aren't we?"

"Yes. But Harry, it's not just people. We're going to need room for water, plants, animals and supplies. And stable expansion charms are not shaped like an aircraft carrier." She pulled the schematic out of his hand. "The natural shape of a pocket dimension follows a Fibonacci curve. And so we're going to use the keel of the ship as a bracing for two curved expansion charms. The upper hemisphere will curve back, while the lower hemisphere will curve forward. This will allow the maximization of the space expansion charms, we believe on a scale of kilometers, rather than just meters."

"But…but…why did I even buy the ship in the first place then?"

"Because with magic, Harry, it's going to be far easier to reshape and repurpose it than to build it from scratch."

"But…but…"

She kissed him. "Shut up, now, Harry."

"Okay."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

When Harry walked into the department head meeting on the morning of October 14th, 2009, he knew he was about to hear something amazing. Daniel Webber had cut his hair and was wearing a wizarding robe possibly for the first time in his life. He was flipping his monocarbon filament wand through his fingers nervously while the older, more ponderous Sam Waterstone sat beside him with his hands clasped over his expansive middle, red-faced and looking about to snooze off.

"Good morning," he said as he helped himself to tea and scones. "Who wants to go first?"

Webber jumped to his feet before sinking back down. "Er, ah, engineering would like to go first."

Padma snickered and Webber blushed.

"Go ahead, Daniel," Harry said.

"Lodestones!" the wizarding engineer blurted.

Padma snickered more. Luna shouted, "Gobstones!"

Daniel blinked and stared. "Er, what?"

Luna stared right back. "Gemstones?"

By this time, Harry decided to take pity on the poor wizard. "What about lodestones, Daniel?"

"As a means of propulsion," the young wizard gushed. "We've done a proof of concept using highly magically charged lodestones to create a permanent warp effect on local space. It distorted it enough to actually make water move up hill!"

Harry noticed how Hermione sat up, as did Padma and Aurora. "So what would that mean in terms of propulsion?" Hermione asked.

Daniel blurted, "Warp speed!"

Then he sat down when Sam Waterstone placed a calming hand on his wrist and sat forward. His voice was very high-pitched for a man, but clear, slow and calm. "What it means, Mr. and Mrs. Potter, is that we believe we can magically create forces that will both simultaneous pull the _Invincible_ forward from the bow and push it forward from aft in a continuous wave of time-space distortion that could not only propel the ship, but very likely propel it faster than light itself, using a magically induced Alcubierre warp curve."

"That's not possible, though!" Hermione said. "Portkeys, floo and apparition don't even approach a third _c._ "

"What we are proposing does not use magic to force us to go faster than light," Waterstone said, still with that amazingly calm demeanor. "Instead, it uses magic to enable us to create a naturally occurring phenomenon that side-steps the laws of relativity entirely. You're familiar with the lensing effect large gravitational bodies have on light?"

"Yes, on light," Hermione said. "But not on mass! What…"

Harry loved Hermione. He especially loved her _a ha!_ moments, and the one she had right there made her so sexy it took an act of will not to run, grab her, and apparate back to their apartment.

"Feather light charms," she said, staring with awe.

Waterstone nodded, and then held out a hand until Webber put an American gold eagle in it. After the exchange, Webber blushed. "I bet no one would get it."

"That's…that's bloody brilliant!" Hermione said. "We negate the mass of the ship, and allow the magical lodestones to warp space to propel it forward…" She shook her head. "I'm assuming you've magically charged magnetite?"

"Yes, a small stone as a proof of concept," Waterstone said. "Muggle lodestones of course are merely magnets. But we've known for generations that lodestones also have powerful, magical properties as well. We're going to move into a large proof of concept model stage immediately. What is so impressive to me is that the warped space follows the same curves as the ship, naturally. It will also create magnetic fields strong enough to deflect radiation away from the habitable portions of the ship. The issues with the Aclubierre metric have always been the unfeasible nature of creating the warping itself, and the potential heat energy of the acceleration. It's been proposed that a ship dropping out of warp speed would release sufficient energy to vaporize anything in front of it. Our solution is the lodestones themselves. Magically, lodestones are capable of absorbing an unlimited amount of magic."

"So you use a Kasimov Dissipation charm to channel the heat energy into magic, and into the lodestone," Hermione said.

Webber looked like he was in love. "And so the acceleration powers the accelerators themselves," he agreed. "It becomes almost a magically self-propagating system. The magical charge to the lodestones would only have to be supplemented every few months. And when we are ready to stop it, we repolarize the lodestones gradually to reverse the warping effect. We believe it would also provide more than enough magical and heat energy to power the entire craft. We believe that we should have both joint electrical and magical energy systems for redundancy."

"How to you repolarize the lodestones?" Harry asked.

Waterstone shrugged. "You flip them over, Mr. Potter, just like magnets. The stones will be on a gyroscopic gimbal system that will allow us to fully control the shape, size and direction of the warping effect. We'll also have some mundane thrusters for local stabilization and control, likely simple hydrogen jets, or maybe even banishing charms, but we project the warp drive to be our primary source of propulsion. At this stage, our largest limitation is obtaining twenty tonnes of magnetite. Fortunately we can charge it ourselves, but we will need a great deal of it."

"I'll find a way," Harry said without hesitation.

Two weeks later, Sam Waterstone dropped dead from radiation poisoning.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

"Merlin's beard it's cold," Harry said as he brushed some snow off the seat in the old Gryffindor section of the quidditch stands. It was January 5th of 2010. Padma, huddled beside him in her own heavy robes, nodded.

On the field below, Hermione, Daniel Webber and the rest of his staff prepared what they were now calling the Waterstone drive for its first powered test. The two clumps of magically charged magnetite were cloaked in a scale model of the projected _Invincible_ that was ten feet long, and stood out as a slightly porpoise-shaped gray blob against the white of newly fallen snow.

The internal gyroscopes were programmed using a primitive magical computer that followed the same principles as a Muggle computer—binary code. At each end were they'd installed a high definition digital camera shielded from both magic and the vacuum of space.

"Waterstone Drive test five," Webber was saying loudly for both the spectators, and the magic-proofed muggle cameras around the field and Quidditch stands. The first four tests were for field dynamics—this was the first off the ground; this would be a make-or-break moment for the drive itself. "Installing disillusionment and unplottable charms…now!"

The object disappeared not just from sight, but from Muggle radar. They were in the former quidditch pitch, which had not been used since the project began. The staff deemed the risk of exposing the children to the radiation unnecessary. Harry and the other project leaders sat in the former Gryffindor stands.

"So, how's Daniel doing since Sam's death?" Harry whispered to Padma.

He would have been blind not to notice the two had been working more closely together.

"He's doing the best he can," Padma said with a small, fond smile. "He's an orphan, and I think Waterstone served as a father figure for him. He'd been Daniel's tutor as an undergrad, and his dissertation chair later."

"Can he do this by himself?"

Padma patted Harry's hand with her gloved one. "He's not by himself, Harry. I think he might be a little smarter than Hermione, but she can understand his theories and help him shape them into a practical application. And I can understand him well enough for him to have a sounding board."

They were interrupted by an explosion. Harry and Padma and the other department heads stared in shock at a pillar of fire that rose in the center of the pitch, contained only by stone-anchored runic wards. "Perfectly normal!" Webber shouted over the din using a _sonorous_ charm. "The acceleration released a lot of energy."

Just seconds later, a second pillar of fire erupted further down the field. Webber's magnified voice said, "Also expected. The test vehicle is back. We'll release video footage after lunch. Thank you all for coming!"

Four hours later, Daniel Webber ran into the conference room waiving a shimmering DVD. "You've got to see this!"

The other department heads pulled out the wide-screen television, which like all of the technology the Americans brought with them, had been charmed against magic and actually ran on a generator at the back of the building. Hermione came a few minutes later, followed by Webber's staff, as mute evidence that the young technomage had run the entire way from their labs.

She came and sat down by Harry. Rather than speak, she grinned and held his hand. The others gathered around the table as Webber set up the video in the computer attached to the television. Minutes later, they were looking at a video of the quidditch stands where Harry was speaking to Padma.

Suddenly the image blurred in steaks of red for just twenty seconds before the blurring stopped. The black screen looked blurry until the camera's autofocus kicked back in. They were looking at a star field. As they watched, the test vehicle's own rotation brought something into view.

Harry frowned, but further down the table Aurora Sinistra shouted, "Great Merlin's beard! Is that Mars?"

"Yes!" Webber exulted. "The test vehicle travelled two and a half astronomical units in twenty seconds! It travelled twenty light minutes in only twenty seconds! It didn't just go fast as light; it went sixty times faster than light!"

"It also atomized the rat we put inside the ship," one of Webber's MIT associates pointed out.

Harry's excitement turned to horror. "Atomized?"

"The acceleration didn't just reduce the rat to past, it actually atomized it," Webber admitted. "We have some ideas about that, though. Worst case scenario is that we just really slow our acceleration over a period of years. But we think we can actually use a second set of lodestones to create a negating warp bubble within the accelerating fields to dampen or even eliminate the inertia."

"Like in Star Trek?" Hermione asked.

"Precisely!" Webber said. "It'll take more work, but one way or the other we now know for certain we have a means of propulsion!"

Harry glanced around the table before standing and applauding. When the other saw it was not just a short gesture, they too stood and applauded the young man who just revolutionized magical transport in the course of only a few months.

Webber blushed and stammered nervously, until Padma stood, crossed the room, and kissed his cheek. The blushing turned radioactive as he grinned goofily.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Of all the people in the DMLE who gave Harry a hard time when he first started, Davin Proudfoot was the hardest. After all, here was this seventeen-year-old darling of the Minister who was given full ranking despite having skipped the academy and his last year of Hogwarts. He was sure that Harry's position was nothing but a political ploy by Shacklebolt, and it took Harry almost a year to show him that he was not on the auror force just to rest on his own laurels. It wasn't until their fight with Krakow and Sims, two former Death Eaters, that Proudfoot even admitted Harry might be as good as his reputation hinted.

By the time Harry made auror captain above veterans who had been on the force longer than Harry had been alive, Proudfoot was his most vocal supporter. That support continued when Harry made Head Auror, and then DMLE director.

So when Proudfoot sent him an owl telling him they had to meet, Harry did not hesitate a moment.

He entered the dingy bar in Glasgow wearing a thick Muggle-style coat and heavy denim trousers and found his former colleague after only a moment of searching. There was a bottle of 18 year old Laghroaig Islay on the table with two shot glasses, one of which had recently been emptied.

"Have a seat, Harry," he said. The fact he used Harry's first name was all the proof Harry needed that the meeting was off the books. Proudfoot never used his first name, on duty or off, having come through Slytherin house with many typical Slytherin traits. Harry sat, and without hesitation poured himself a sniff of scotch.

"How are things?"

"Tense," Proudfood said softly. "Word got out about your little project. The Wizengamot had a closed-door meeting with Shacklebolt. He… Harry, they ordered him to stop you."

"What, to take it over?"

"No, to kill everyone involved," Proudfoot said. He met Harry's gaze squarely, and Harry knew the man was not joking.

"Why? I could understand them wanting to join—hell, I'd give them everything we've done and learned so they can make their own ark. But trying to make us stop?"

Proudfoot poured himself another shot. "You heard about that so-called Goblins prophecy, right? They're saying that everything happening is following an ancient prophecy of theirs—that magic will wipe the world free of the impure and the Muggle—and a new world will be born. Nasty little blighters are building their own shelter underground. They offered space to the Wizengamot and their families, but only if you're stopped. It's against their religion to leave the earth, you might say."

Shacklebolt had said something about the Goblin prophecy as well, but even so Harry shook his head. "The radiation is permeating the whole earth, Davin. And even if the goblins make a giant lead cage, the earth itself is going to melt. Whole continents will be swept by lava, and then boiling seas. There is no surviving this for us." Another shot, and Harry looked around the dingy bar at all the men who would be dead within three years. "What'd Shack say?"

Proudfoot shrugged. "You know he was always your biggest fan, even if he doesn't always publicly agree with you. He wanted to make sure you know before they strip him of his authority and move on their own. He's already taken a huge risk with those grants to Hogwarts."

In his head, Harry was going through a roster of DMLE staff he trusted, and were smart enough not to let greed or fear cloud their judgment. "Listen, Davin. Spread the word in the department. Don't break any of the confidentiality statutes, but you know enough to know what to say. Let people know I'm hiring. And the pay is a berth for family members."

"Your own army?" Proudfoot said with one raised brow.

"Security only," Harry said. "We're going to have room, I think, if everything comes together. I'll share what we're doing with anyone who asks, but I'll be damned if I let a bunch of religious zealots condemn me and my friends to death."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

"At least that rules out the goblins as passengers," Hermione said. "Since the war, I just don't trust them."

Around them, the other department heads shared worried expressions, since he didn't feel right keeping something that big a secret.

"I know there is risk," Harry said. "But I believe a good portion of the DMLE is actually with me, or Shacklebolt wouldn't have risked sending me word. As I understand it, he's stalling for time. So I'll be leading the defensive initiative. On to other matters. Environmental?"

"We do have some good news in that regard," Neville said from between Padma and Luna. "I've bred a magical hybrid mandarin orange tree that is hardy enough to survive the conditions we expect, but has a massive intake of carbon dioxide and expulsion of oxygen. I'm working on dwarf variants of peach and possibly pecan trees as well."

"Why trees?" Harry asked.

"Greatest level of oxygen producers," Padma said. "Luna's not been entirely happy that I've borrowed Neville's expertise so much, but our goal is to create a living biosphere capable of replacing the oxygen we use. The magical mandarin tree comes up to my shoulder, still produces wonderful tasting fruit, and produces air."

"We're hoping to maximize space with high oxygenating, food-producing plants," Neville said.

"What we won't be having is steak," Padma said with a shrug. "Or much meat at all save what we take with us. We will be taking embryos for food animals—various species of sheep, alpacas, poultry. But cattle requires too much energy and resources to raise. Most of our protein will be non-traditional—crickets, mainly."

"So go eat a roast tonight while you can," Harry said to laughter around the table. "Luna? Preservation?"

"We're working closely with Padma and Neville as well," Luna said. Though her voice still sounded somewhat distant and airy, just like when she was a girl, her words were direct and clear. Harry noticed that her cheeks seemed a little more red than normal. "We're concentrating first on flora and fauna that will have the greatest impact on our society, followed by secondary supporting flora and fauna. I'm afraid there will be insects on board. No mosquitoes or human biters, though."

The table cheered. Luna smiled, almost. "We're placing most of the animals into stasis using the drought of living death, and then shrinking them down into smaller containers for space. The potion students have been working on the potions we need, but there is a concern about ingredients. Harry, there is a real risk we may have to resort to theft."

The others around the table looked uncomfortable, but Harry merely nodded. "We're almost through February of 2010. The magical world will become lethal we expect sometime in early 2011. The closer we get to that point, the more desperate things will become. If that means we steal, then we'll do what we have to do to survive. Because we _have_ to survive."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

A week after Harry spoke with Proudfoot, he and Minerva McGonagall were walking along the path to Hogsmead. The old witch walked with a cane now, and draped her heavy demron robes about her shoulders and over her head like a scarf.

"And here we are," she said. Given how slow she was walking, her stop was not really abrupt. "This is the furthest the castle wards can extend."

They were not even a quarter of the way to Hogsmead, which meant the village was indefensible. He stood, arms crossed, and considered his options. He knew during his sixth year, when Dumbledore activated the castle wards, not even Voldemort could get in. It was only after the old wizard died that Voldemort was able to bring the castle wards down.

As if reading his mind, McGonagall said, "I'm afraid we cannot make the wards as strong as Professor Dumbledore could."

"Why?"

Her smile was dry. "Because there are no staff members that powerful left, Harry. Even into old age, he was an extraordinarily powerful wizard."

"What does it take to power them, then?"

"Will, Mr. Potter. Sheer, bloody will."

"Professor, will the castle be able to hold everyone?"

McGonagall waved a hand. "Mr. Potter, that castle was built not just to house students, but their families, their servants, their livery and their entourage. At its height in the 13th century, the castle regularly housed eight to nine thousand people, and even then there was room. Space won't be an issue. I've already ordered the elves to increase food purchases. Hogwarts has a sizable bank account from tax revenue at Hogsmeade, and given what I know, there is no reason to hold back."

Harry nodded. "The gold would just weigh us down."

He almost jumped when he felt her hand on his arm, and saw her staring at him intently. "You'll save them, Harry," she said softly. "Just like you saved us before. You take care of my children, dear boy. Promise me that, and everything Hogwarts has will be at your disposal."

"You aren't coming with me?"

"Harry, I'm a century old, and feeling my years," the witch said softly. "This is a voyage for the young. Why else do you think I recruited the other schools? Oylmpe will be staying as well. We do this only because we know you'll save them."

To his utter shock, she slowly pulled him into a loose hug, and it was only then that he felt how incredibly thin she was, and how her arms trembled around his shoulders. "I _will_ save them, Professor. That I promise."


	5. Build It, And They Will Come

A/N: Chap 4 review responses are in my forums. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Five: Build It, And They Will Come**

Basking in post-coital glow, Harry said, "You know what would be useful right now?"

"Ice cream?" Hermione asked. Given her face was buried into a pillow, it came out as _"Ish queem"_ but he understood her snacking habits after sex.

"No, the Elder Wand," he said. "We've evacuated our people from the village, but I'm worried the castle wards won't hold if we're attacked."

And just like that, the Elder Wand fell on his chest.

"Oh bugger," Harry muttered. Hermione pushed herself up to see what had him bothered and stared, mouth agape, at the old wand on his chest.

"Harry, what did you do?"

"I didn't _do_ anything!" Harry said in alarm. He reached for it, and just as last time he felt cold emanating from the wand. "Merlin, Hermione! It's the Elder Wand. But…I broke it. I know I did!"

"Well, just don't go wishing for the…"

The resurrection stone, still in its ring setting, fell onto his chest with a painful thump. "Harry!"

"I couldn't help it!" Harry said in a high pitched voice.

He then closed his eyes really tight. "Now what are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm wishing for you and Susan Bones to fall naked on my chest."

She slapped him hard, right on his bare stomach. "Ow!"

"Really, Harry? Susan?"

He shrugged. "A man can dream, you know."

"That's disgusting…now what?"

Harry sighed. "Pastrami sandwich that time. I'm hungry."

The moment he spoke, a plate appeared with a sandwich piled high with pastrami. "Thank you!" he called aloud to the elves.

After a late snack of pastrami and lots of groveling for forgiveness for his admittedly tasteless joke about Susan Bones, the two made their way to McGonagall's office. Harry sent a _patronus_ to say he needed to speak to Dumbledore's portrait, and a moment later the gargoyle moved aside. McGonagall's cat patronus came back and said, " _Lock up when you're done, please._ "

Up the spiral stairs, they found the office filled with portraits mostly asleep, save one particular old wizard who watched them come with a twinkle in his painted eye. Harry noticed how Dumbledore stared intently at the wand, so he didn't waste time. "Professor, I broke this. I threw it off the main causeway into the gorge. It came back just an hour ago."

Dumbledore nodded with a smile. "I broke it on several occasions myself—the first being after I won it from Gellert Grindelwald. I broke it again after I was first asked to be Minster for Magic, and a third time after Tom Riddle vanished when you were a baby. And yet, at some point or another, I would think or say how good it would be to have it, and it would return."

"How?"

"Mr. Potter, you are not the master of death only while you held them together. They _made_ you the master of death. Whether you throw them away or not, you are the one who united them, and that has changed you. Just as wielding the elder wand changed me. I've often wondered if magic makes us what magic needs, or if we remake ourselves by choice. Regardless, I believe you are the Master of Death now, at this time, because magic needs you to be. And if anyone is worthy to use that wand, it is you."

Harry glared down at the hated wand. "The wand chooses the wizard, is that it?"

"Yes, Mr. Potter. Just as magic itself chooses the wizard."

"Fine. Alright. Good. So, tell me how you got the wards so strong during my sixth year? The whole project is in danger, and I need to protect them."

"That, my dear boy, I can help you with."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

In a closed-door meeting at the end of February with Minerva McGonagall, Olympe Maxime of Beauxbatons, Augustin Clements from Ilvermorny, and Ernestine Franklin Claggett of Salem's, Harry laid his concerns on the table.

"According to my sources in the Ministry, the Goblins have convinced top leadership that their way is the only way to survive. And their condition for letting Ministry officials and their families join them is to stop this project," Harry said. "Minister Shacklebolt has been stalling them as much as he can, but the Wizengamot members are becoming desperate and I'm afraid we may be running out of time."

"Mr. Potter has proposed that we combine our financial resources to obtain all the materials we will need now, bring in all the students and their families who wish to come, and then activate the castle wards," McGonagall said succinctly.

"The wards will not hold," Headmaster Clement said.

"They did under Dumbledore, and they will under Mr. Potter," McGonagall said without hesitation. "While I can't claim he was always the best student, Albus always assured me Mr. Potter was more than powerful enough."

"You're talking about bankrupting our schools," Claggett, a direct descendant of the famed wizard Benjamin Franklin, said.

Harry shrugged. "What good will that budget do after next year? I'm proposing that we lock down the castle completely. And we bring all the families of those who are coming over now, right now."

Madame Maxime thrummed her fingers on the table. "Truth is, my friends, Beauxbatons finances are not what they used to be. Our enrollment has been falling for years."

"As have ours," Clement said. "Now we know why."

Harry, though, shrugged it away. "Madame Maxine, if your school's finances are in trouble, then remove all the warding and magic, and sell the lands to the Muggles. I've seen it—you should be able to get two to three hundred million euros for it, and that would be enough to solve the food storage issue. We could buy enough food with that money to last years. Likewise, with the American schools. Remove the magic and liquidate your assets. Bring your libraries and valuables here—the libraries at least we'll want to take with us, as much as we can, anyway."

Claggett lowered her lined face in her hands. For a moment, Harry feared she would start crying, but the old witch had more control than that. "It is a bitter thing, facing the end of the world."

"But Ernestine, the kids at least have a chance," McGonagall said, both comforting and imploring. "For Merlin's sake, they have a chance! Can any of us here ask any more than that our students have a chance to live while others do not?"

Headmaster Clement stroked his sharp, gray beard while regarding Harry. "Albus spoke of you like a son, did you know that, Potter?"

"He acted the part of a doting grandfather, when he wasn't scheming to get me killed in his crazy plans," Harry said. "He was far from perfect, but despite all he did to me I believe he meant well."

"That may be the kindest thing anyone's actually said about the old coot," Clagget said with a tired smile. "Salem owns a great deal of stock, mainly from Wells Fargo and AT&T. It's what's allowed us to remain financially independent from the Department of Magic all these years."

"Ilvermorny is partially funded by mineral, coal and oil rights," Headmaster Clement said. "Last time Exxon offered a buyout, they offered one point five billion dollars."

The number made the Europeans sit up and stare. "That could buy a lot," Harry noticed.

"Yep," the old American wizard said dryly.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Flush with cash from the school partners, and with a workforce that now numbered over ten thousand between students, families, and experts, the project surged forward. Almost overnight, storage sheds and dormitories appeared for the families of students who wanted to stay. Harry personally led expeditions to buy food directly from wholesalers, following lists given to him by the medical division, which helping oversee food supplies.

Luna stopped hunting magical flora and fauna and simply bought it from around the world, while Hermione helped Webber purchase the raw materials for the ship. This included several hundred thousand metric tons of titanium to construct the sloping domes around the central keel. Already an lead-plated steel dome covered the drydock to give the workers some shielding from the radiation.

Within, lit by both Muggle lights powered by charmed generators and _lumos_ spells, the ship was almost unrecognizable. The tower structure was gone, as was the flight deck. The hull of the ship itself was reshaped by magic into a seven-hundred foot long, one hundred foot wide, fifty-foot thick rectangle which only occasionally retained the navy gray of the original ship. The entire structure was suspended on giant, magically reinforced gimbals that were able to rotate it or lock it as needed.

What was odd, however, were the strips of sunstone being laid down in a long line of the structure's spine. Harry knew that what he was looking at was actually going to be the sky of the expanded area within the sloped dome, and that a similar strip of sunstone would be laid on the opposite side. But it was hard to visualize the finished project.

Many of the workers were older students, Harry noted with pride, with a sprinkling of Webber's colleagues showing them what to do. More than a few were on brooms as they worked, but with the cushioning charms on the floor no one had suffered serious injury yet.

Harry took his own broom inside what they were already calling the command structure. Despite the construction still going on outside, the interior had already had expansion charms applied. The ship was being built in two separate hemispheres, each oriented opposite the other. This was because according to Webber's experiments, the ship would actually carry four separate lodestones. Two would provide acceleration, while two smaller ones would serve not only as inertial dampeners, but as a source of artificial gravity for the ship. The exact center of the ship would be the dividing line between the opposing gravity fields. Needless to say they planned to carry many spare, uncharged lodestones just to be safe.

Half of the central fuselage at the top had seats and controls that faced down, while the down-facing side had seats and controls right-side up.

But that said, with the liberal use of expansion charms, they had created a lot of cabins in the command center for the operational crew, while most of the civilians would be housed in magical tents or more permanent construction in the domes themselves.

"Captain!"

Harry was surprised at that appellation and turned to see Auror Dennis Creevey walking the ceiling of a hall toward him.

"Dennis, how are you?"

"Good. Well, what do you think so far?"

"Brilliant," Harry admitted. "Doctor Webber tells me we'll be starting on the first dome in a few days."

"That's right!" Dennis said. "This is just…blimey, it's almost like Doctor Who or Star Trek. I'm afraid you can't go lower, though, sir. We're doing an atmospheric pressure test."

"That's fine," Harry said. He chose not to say anything about the 'sirs' and 'captains.' "Keep at it, then. Let me or Doctor Webber know if you need anything."

"Oh, I will, sir! No doubt about that!"

He had to fly out because of the orientation of the stairs, and from there flew to the nearest door to the surface. He smiled when he saw Hermione waiting for him, but the smile faded when he saw her expression. "What?"

"Kingsley's dead," she said grimly. "Someone found out about his grants and used it as a pretense to kill him. He was assassinated in his office and no one tried to stop the killers. They're coming for us, Harry."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

With McGonagall by his side, Harry walked down into the basement of the castle—a room that looked not too dissimilar to the Slytherin dungeons. Except the basement was filled to the ceiling with crates upon crates of food, all held in elven preservation charms. They moved past the seemingly endless stacks of food until they arrived at a room dominated by a sunken floor, and at the center of it a bulging, dark rock almost of the same color as the rock the Veil of Death was made of.

The whole room felt like an electrical storm, with magic saturating every inch of space. As he stared, he could see little flickers of blue light. "Professor, is that a lodestone?"

"No, Mr. Potter, but it is the foundation stone of the castle," McGonagall said.

Harry, remembering his and Hermione's conversation with Dumbledore's painting, stepped to the stone and knelt beside it. With a flick of his wand, he cut his palm and placed its bloodied surface to the stone.

What he felt was simply beyond description. It felt as if, for a brief moment of time, he _was_ the castle. He could feel every single person walking within its walls. He could see through every portrait's eyes, and listen through every portrait's ears. He could feel his elves flitting about like flies, only in a real way they were the blood stream of the castle.

And beyond it, on the edge of his perceptions, he could feel a coming threat. Beyond all of that, however, was a _presence_ , a sense of something huge and ancient and patient. A presence of love and welcome that made his hair stand on end and his heart thud painfully in his chest. He was feeling Hogwarts herself, and the sensation was both terrifying and exhilarating.

More than anything else, he felt acceptance. And with that acceptance came compliance. He stood, shakily, and placed the elder wand to the surface of the heart stone. "Let no enemies come this way," he intoned. It was not a spell, but rather a prayer to the castle itself. He felt the magic of the heart stone meld with his for just a moment and then it flashed brilliantly, causing him to stumble away.

He knew it worked; he could _feel_ it. "Oh Harry," McGonagall whispered. "If only Albus were truly alive to see this."

"What do you mean?"

"I was headmistress in name only, Harry. The school wards let me work with them, but never truly accepted me. But what you did…they accepted you. I may retain the name, but you are the headmaster as far as magic is concerned."

Harry grinned. "Well, let's keep that a secret. I can barely keep the department heads in line. I don't think I could handle students!"

McGonagall smiled fondly as he offered an arm to walk her out of the basement.

As soon as he had her situated, though, he ran out of the castle and found Dennis Creevey waiting for him, no longer smiling as he had that morning when Harry inspected the construction.

"It's Davin," he said. Harry noticed with approval the young auror had a broom in hand, having switched roles from construction worker to auror in a second.

"How many of our people are there guarding the ward line?"

"Less than a dozen," Creevey said.

The two men flew off on their brooms and just a few minutes later, on the road to Hogsmead, Harry spotted easily sixty wizards and witches in red or blue robes. However, he knew in an instant that these were not his attackers because with those sixty aurors and hitwizards were another hundred and twenty or so wives, husbands and children, all of whom were looking back over their shoulders in obvious fear. Proudfoot was at the lead and waved when Harry arrived by broom.

Harry's own supporters emerged from the trees on either side and banished the charms that made their auror robes go khaki instead of red. "Davin," Harry said. "Melinda," he said to Proudfoot's wife of the past fifteen years.

Proudfoot flicked his wand against the near solid ward that separated them. "You heard 'bout Shack, obviously. They killed the Senior Undersecretary as well. We're about half an hour ahead of the main force. They're throwing everything at you, Potter. The entire hit wizard and auror corps, besides us."

"So you thought about my offer?"

Proudfoot nodded. "We're it. Sorry it couldn't be more. You'll love this, though. Guess who the new Minister for Magic is?"

"Draco Malfoy?"

Proudfoot laughed without humor. "Close. Narcissa Malfoy, and Lucius was standing right beside her when she ordered your death."

"Okay, we don't have a lot of time," Harry said. "Everyone, hold up your wands except Proudfoot and Garlin, you two bring up the rear."

Everyone there complied, and with a whirl Harry summoned them all through the ward wall. Only once he had the wands to his people did he reach through and begin guiding them through, one at a time.

"Come on, let's not dawdle," he said, feeling the urgency in the air. He was a third of the way through those joining when the first loud pops announced the Ministry force. The refugees screamed in terror, but Harry remained bridging the two sides of the ward even as the first spells flew. Proudfoot and another auror named Garlin brought up the rear, shielding as best they could. Harry helped by transfiguring four of the trees into allosauruses. He particularly loved dinosaurs since Hermione showed him a BBC series about the critters.

Since transfiguration was not something many wizards used in battle because of the time and concentration it took, none of the first squad of fifteen attackers were expecting it. And really, who expects to be attacked by four allosauruses?

With that distraction, Harry got them all in before allowing the ward to close. "Okay, before we go any further, I'm going to need everyone to accept the binding contracts. It's for our protection and yours."

No one hesitated. It was March 8th, and the Siege of Hogwarts had begun.

* * *

A/N: The MoD is a bit of a red-herring. Harry just wanted a more powerful wand. He's not immortal or Merlin or any of the other common MoD tropes.


	6. A Death In Buccleuch

A/N: Chap 5 review responses are in my forums like normal, along with what I hope is a clear description of _Invincible._ I also have a comment at the end of this chapter regarding the American Magical Community.

* * *

 **Chapter Six: A Death In Buccleuch**

March 15, 2010

"The ruddy bastards," Harry whispered under his breath as he focused the omnoculars on the crucifixes which now blocked the path between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. On the first two crucifixes hung a man and woman of early middle age, their wrists and feet nailed into the wood and their backs magically adhered to the cross to prolong their suffering. On the third hung the motionless body of an eight-year old girl, her face hidden by the tilted angle of her hanging head and dark hair.

Nearby, Professor Sprout had collapsed boneless to the ground, weeping uncontrollably. The Hufflepuff head of house had come with them to try and identify the bodies, since she was now the professor in charge of new student orientation. Several of Harry's auror volunteers knelt beside her; it was Dennis Creevey who left her side and joined Harry.

"Morgan, Sheba and Harriet Collins," Dennis said sadly. "Their son Sean is a Third Year Hufflepuff. They named his little sister after you, Harry."

Davin Proudfoot joined them a few moments later. "Whatever you're thinking, Potter, forget it." He pointed to the shimmering air around them.

"Yeah, I know," Harry said grimly. "We'd never make it to them. That doesn't mean we have to let them suffer."

Harry stepped forward and cast his _Patronus_. After the silver stag ran to the still suffering man and his wife, Harry watched them through the _omnoculars_. His stomach clenched into a fist when Sean Collin's father and mother both nodded their heads weakly.

"What did you ask them?" Dennis asked.

"For forgiveness," Harry whispered a moment before he stuck the elder wand through the ward wall and cast the most powerful fire charm he knew short of fiendfyre. Between his magic and the Death Stick, the flame whipped out in a billow of white-hot power that enveloped and then quickly vaporized the crucifixes, and those on them.

Proudfoot blinked in shock. "Holy shite, Potter…"

"At least they didn't suffer any more," Dennis said with the sort of grim honesty that only a survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts could summon.

Harry turned away and strode stiff-legged toward Professor Sprout, who was crying anew. He knelt down in front of her. "Professor, you've got to get word out to the families still out there not to try coming to Hogwarts yet," he told her. "We can't let that happen again."

She sobbed one more time before taking a deep breath to regain some semblance of control. "I know, Mr. Potter. I know. I… Thank you, for not letting them suffer."

With that, she accepted the help of the aurors nearby before turning and striding as fast as her stubby legs could take her back to Hogwarts. Harry turned to Proudfoot. "Davin, I want a sentry patrol along the ward line every half hour. Put me in the schedule too—late shift. My days are full right now."

"Will do, boss."

"Creevey, you're with me. Come on."

It was the seventh day of the Siege of Hogwarts. The first day, the Goblins and their Ministry lackeys attacked the wards with everything they had. Lines of hundreds of goblins and almost a hundred witches and wizards stood just feet from the wardlines and cast their strongest magic.

All combined, they were less powerful than Voldemort by himself using the Elder Wand. And the wards they challenged were the strongest the school had seen since Dumbledore's height. When a full day of open assaults failed, the Goblins set up granite ward sappers at hundred foot intervals along the entire wardline, even targeting the tunnels that Harry and the Weasleys had to collapse and ward. The sappers cast an unearthly, flickering blue glow on the horizon from the school grounds as they tried to draw down the magic of the wards.

After consulting with Dumbledore's portrait, Harry confirmed the approach could even work—in three or four years.

The American families of those students and workers who had elected to stay at Hogwarts arrived days before the siege began; the French mere hours. They even had a handful of hand-picked students from the Dehli Institute of Magic that Padma brought in. But because of the last minute surge of funding from the participating schools, they were flushed enough with cash to purchase the supplies they knew they needed for the ship in advance.

As Harry walked back from the wardline, he passed hastily assembled warehouses and dormitories for the families who didn't want to live in the castle. They were by necessity barebones, but they provided a lead-lined roof and shelter from the still sometimes brutal Scottish winter and early spring. In the distance, the lead-lined dome of the drydock dominated the lake front.

"How are we going to get the families in, Harry?" Dennis asked.

As they walked, Harry saw a pair of wizards made small by distance zooming over the lake toward the castle. The water attacks were never more than half-hearted attempts by Ministry wizards, since the goblins would never voluntarily go on or over water. As Harry watched, one of the wizards tumbled off his broom and fell into the water, where a tentacle caught him and quickly pulled him under. A moment later he heard the distant, muffled report of a rifle.

One of the American parents who had come over had introduced herself not only as an auror, but also a former soldier in the American military. She'd brought a rather powerful sniper rifle when she'd been told of some of the troubles Harry was having. As it turned out, most wizards found it very difficult to ride a broom, break a ward, and cast a projectile shield charm capable of stopping a .50 caliber sniper rifle round all at the same time.

"I have an idea," Harry said. "You and I are going out tomorrow morning on brooms over the lake, and from there to London by portkey. It's time I started pulling in some favors."

"Right, Harry," Dennis said with a happy grin. "Maybe we'll run into some old friends on the way out."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

It was a sober meeting of the department heads that afternoon. Harry walked in on muted conversations—Padma was now sitting next to Daniel Webber. He saw Luna was missing with a frown.

Neville, noticing, said, "She wasn't feeling well, Harry. I told her to go lay down."

"I understand," Harry said. "I'm a little sick to the stomach myself. As you know, the goblins and their Ministry allies left a message for us outside the wardlines. It's not safe for the British families to come right now, so I've had Professor McGonagall and her staff send out messages telling all the waiting families to stand by. Dennis Creevey and I will be leaving the grounds early tomorrow morning to see about getting them in safely. We are not abandoning any Hogwarts families who want to come."

With that, he sat down and the meeting got started. He said nothing as Hermione reached under the table and took his hand, but he appreciated the gesture regardless.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

At four that morning in freezing rain, Harry and Dennis flew out of the castle on a pair of Firebolt 10s, zipping just inches over the water

They didn't even wait to reach land before they activated their portkeys.

Though he hadn't had the decades-long career of some in the magical law enforcement field, Harry was more energetic than most. During his brief tenure, he attended dozens of international meetings and ICW-sponsored symposiums, and learned thoroughly how law enforcement worked locally and abroad.

Many British witches and wizards would be astonished at how much the magical ministries of the world interacted with their Muggle governments. Some, like the Americans, were actually part of the Muggle government. The American Secretary of Magic technically answered to the Muggle president, and aside from those laws specific to magic, American witches and wizards were considered American citizens subject to the same judicial standards and systems. The only difference was that magicals still used the gold standard due to the ability to counterfeit-proof gold.

In opposition, the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic was completely segregated from their Muggle counterparts, and in fact controlled far more land than its Muggle equivalent.

Britain fell in the mid-way point. Shacklebolt tried to keep the British PM advised of comings and goings, but the ancient British magical community was otherwise separated by economy and culture. However, the one exception in the United Kingdom was Law Enforcement. Harry knew that witches and wizards would evade magical law by hiding in Muggle communities, and so over the years he built up a good relationship with his Muggle counterparts.

Thus when he arrived at New Scotland Yard that very morning with Dennis at his side, he knew the guard detail on duty by first name and was passed through without trouble after flashing the auror badge he never formally surrendered to Kingsley. He navigated the harried halls of the Metropolitan Police Service with practiced familiarity until he reached Specialist Operations.

The officer on duty, an attractive young woman with straw-colored hair, smiled up at him. "Harry Potter! I haven't seen you in over a year! What…is that a wedding ring on your finger?"

He held it up with a smile. "It is, love. Only one woman could pull me away from you, I'll have you know."

"Oh you," she said with a blush. "Is she a doll, then?"

"More'n that," Creevey said. "She's a doctor of physics. Think a bleedin' hot librarian and you'll peg her."

"Nin, is the AC in?" Harry asked, sobering a little. "It's fairly urgent."

"I'll check to see if she's available," the constable said. A quick phone call, and a moment later Assistant Commissioner Cassandra Richards herself appeared in her casual white shirt and dark slacks. Her dark hair was graying and her normally round cheeks had sagged visibly since Harry last met her.

"Cassy, thanks for seeing me on such short notice," Harry said as he took her hand. "You remember Dennis Creevey?"

"I do," she said. "Come on back, Harry, Mr. Creevey."

She let them through the maze of the Special Operations directorate to her office and sat them both down. A constable brought in tea with its fixings, and a moment later the AC had the door closed.

"What the hell is happening?" she said without a hint of her calm smile from moments ago. "I've had SO 21 agents working double shifts for the past two weeks! And no one at your office has been answering the ruddy phone!"

She referred to the Special Operations unit that coordinated with the DMLE.

"I didn't know it was that bad," Harry admitted. "Look, Cassy, are you aware of…how do I even put this?"

"World's ending," Creevey said.

"Well, yeah, that sums it up."

The Met Assistant Commissioner locked each of them with a hard gaze before finally nodding. "Certain executive police staff have been informed. I can't say much else," she said.

"At least we have some common ground to start," Harry said. He quickly explained the effect the radiation was having on magicals, and his decision to try and build his own magical ark much like the Muggles were. The fact that Richards showed no surprise about the arks was good enough to show Harry was not violating any confidentiality restrictions.

"You know that our internal politics have always been unstable," Harry finished. "The goblin nation has decided this was a good time to make a move, and unfortunately they have a vendetta against me personally. They've fashioned a cockamamie story about surviving the end and convinced the Wizengamot theirs is the only way. They then put my death, and the deaths of everyone with me, as a condition to let the Wizengamot join them."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt would never allow that," Richards said.

"Which is probably why they assassinated him a few days ago," Harry said grimly. "Cassy, they crucified the parents and eight-year-old sister of a Hogwarts student right outside our castle wards yesterday. We already have the families of our American and French students, but we can't get the British families in. I need help."

She shook her head. "I'm not sure what help I can get you, Mr. Potter."

"We need a submarine," Harry said. "We think we can get families in by submarine. Goblins don't go on or near water, ever. As long as the target is under water, they'll be safe. We're willing to pay, as well. I just don't know how to find the right people to get this moving quick."

"Mr. Potter…Harry, I've had fifty three women and twenty two boys raped in the past week under circumstances that can only be ascribed to magic," Richards said grimly. "From what you've just told me, your government has essentially collapsed and there is no law enforcement. You're going to have to give me something."

"We have aurors," Dennis said, as much to Harry as to the AC. "Some of the families that came from France and America included aurors. We have over a hundred ourselves, and another fifty hit wizards. They're not doing much since the wards are holding."

"For now," Harry said. He looked at his Muggle colleague and could see just how much the year, and the terrible knowledge that came with it, had aged her. "We'll give you twenty auror or hitwizard volunteers, rotated weekly under your direct command. But given everything that is happening, magical containment may not be the best approach. Our prison is not secure."

"What do you suggest, then?" she said.

"When we catch them, we break their wands and then _obliviate_ them until they think they're babies," Harry said grimly. "If it's just kids and the crimes aren't serious, we break their wands and you can process them like a normal perp."

They negotiated for almost three hours, at one point even bringing in the Deputy Commissioner and eventually the Parliamentary Undersecretary of State for Defence Equipment, Support and Technology. But at the end, Harry had what he needed and more.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

"It's yellow," Dennis complained.

"It's a submarine."

"But it's yellow!" Dennis said, sounding as if he'd been mortally insulted. "Submarines aren't supposed to be yellow."

"What about the Beatle's song?"

"They were all barmy, is what!" Dennis said.

The submarine the Defence Department allowed Potter to buy at only twice its actual resale value was indeed yellow. It also had more viewing ports than Harry had ever heard of, because as it happened the submarine in question was an attempt by Britain's largest ship builder to break into the tourist industry with a tourist submarine.

The sub was a converted proof-of-concept design that was later scrapped in favor of the new _Astute_ -class attack submarines. BAE Systems took the abandoned concept, replaced the nuclear reactor with diesel engines, popped dozens of small ports in and automated the navigation system enough that a two-man crew could drive the fifty-meter sub. They then painted it yellow, hoping to sell it in the tourist industry.

The fact that, despite the ports, it still looked like a military sub did not do it any favors.

The two man crew arrived in unmarked blue shirts and slacks that looked a great deal like the daily wear uniforms of a submarine crew for the royal navy. Of course, since the Crown could not officially provide any aid to Harry's cause, they had no markings that could identify them as naval personnel.

"Roit, then," the lead driver said. "No names. I'm captain, this is lieutenant. You're boss, and he's minion." He pointed at Creevey, who laughed at the appellation. "Don't want any details but where to go, roit?"

"Got it," Harry said. "Head in, our people will be arriving shortly."

The dock in Devonshire was quiet, but that probably had something to do with the cold, continuous rain, and the late hour. It was past midnight, and the lights on the yellow submarine in front of them were the only sign of life.

"Hope Professor Sprout got the word out," Dennis said as he cast another warming charm on himself. "We only have a few more hours of the tide."

Harry was about to say something reassuring but was saved the effort by the pop of a portkey. In the direction of the noise a group of magicals appeared—parents and two children. "Hello," Harry called. "Over here, please. Be quick, the others will be coming soon."

The nervous family rushed forward. Harry kept watch as Dennis took their names and checked it against their copy of the Hogwarts student scroll. As he did so, more families began to appear, one after the other in quick succession. Harry let Dennis handle the vetting. After a few moments, he caught the younger man's eyes before pulling out his cloak of invisibility. Amazingly enough, though he could see through it clearly, it kept the cold rain off as well as any charm or coat could.

The submarine could carry as many as a hundred people before its air systems became overloaded, though it would be a tight fit. Dennis was vetting the last three when Harry spotted movement in a shadow by one of the buildings. He barely got his shield up to stop the charmed goblin musket ball from hitting Creevey in the head.

"Go, go, go!" Creevey yelled at the screaming family as they ran toward the ramp to the idling submarine. Harry, meanwhile, dropped his shield in order to continue to conceal his position and waited. He didn't wait long—in seconds a squad of goblins in armor carrying muskets rushed from the shadows flanked by wizards. Harry noted with disdain the attackers didn't even pretend to be aurors anymore.

Harry opened up with Flashbang charm. The explosive sound and bright, blinding flash of light disoriented them so thoroughly the goblins actually fell to the ground in pain. Their eyes were well suited toward dark and low light, but ill-suited to handle sudden illumination. In the confusion, Harry struck with area-wide spells. Swarms of bees and wasps stung them, while the rain sudden trebled and became scalding hot.

An experienced duelist would have easily dissipated both the conjured bees and the charmed rain. These wizards were not duelists, and goblins depended on charmed objects to express their magic, rather than wands. Harry had no mercy, either. He launched into powerful blasting and cutting curses, aiming not to disable, but to permanently remove from the fight. He wasn't purposely trying to kill them, per se, but he knew the charms he used could be lethal.

But despite his skill and element of surprise, there were over twenty attackers to his one defender, since Dennis was assigned to stay with the sub. Harry was able to put down ten of the attackers before one wizard finally found the wherewithal to banish the insects and _finite_ the boiling rain charm.

The goblins recovered almost instantly, those that Harry did not put down, and had their muskets up to fire in his general direction.

The first to bring his musket to bear jerked abruptly as the right side of his head exploded out in a shower of goo. The report of a sniper rifle reached them a second later, on the crest of a second and third shot. Harry considered himself brave, but he felt he got all his suicidal tendencies out with Voldemort. He no longer rushed into dangerous situations by himself. Now he brought back up.

And as it turned out, it was as difficult for a goblin to concentrate on killing Harry and protect themselves from a sniper as it was for wizards. His American sniper, Kathy Bindle, took the goblins out first in quick succession, firing fast enough from far enough away that the enemy could not identify where she was firing from in the rain. Even if they could, charmed muskets did not have the same range as a .50 caliber sniper rifle.

Harry, meanwhile, apparated to a point behind the wizards, cast a disapparation jinx, and laid into them without mercy. He never used the killing curse but his blasting curses were as powerful as a heavy caliber rifle round, and very few wizards got up after he cursed them.

"I surrender!" one of the last two wizards shouted. He threw his wand down and fell to his knees. His companion sneered, and instead of trying to curse Harry, turned his wand on his surrendering ally.

Kathy finished the man with a single shot. Harry stepped past the bodies of his attackers to the surrendering wizard. He leaned over and suddenly it was not just the rain that made him cold. He pulled off his invisibility cloak and stared into the pallid face of Draco Malfoy.

"How did you know?" he demanded.

"You think the Ministry doesn't know who the families of the students are?" Malfo said, not bothering to wipe the rain from his long face. He looked pale and half-starved to Harry, but then he usually did. "Your letters never reached your precious Muggle parents, we can tell you that…"

Harry slugged him in the face, and then kicked him in the groin for good measure.

"God damn you, Malfoy, do you think this is a fucking game?" Harry screamed. "You're no fucking Voldemort, and by Merlin's nutsack I am not Albus Fucking Dumbledore!" He punctuated the old headmaster's name with more kicks. "I saved your life, you little insect!"

"I had no choice," Draco moaned. "My father said…"

"Your father is going to die, just like you are," Harry snarled. He paralyzed the wizard, rolled him over, and then pointed his wand at him. " _Legillimens!"_

Harry immediately ran up against an _occlumens_ shield better than his own. But the urgency Harry felt left him no room for mercy and subtlety. Where Dumbledore or even Snape would have been able to probe and find a weakness to exploit, Harry attacked the shield with the mental equivalent of a Howitzer. Draco cried aloud as Harry ruthlessly bombarded his mental shields until finally they broke.

Minutes later he stepped back from the groaning, crying Malfoy with a snarl. After clawing in his pocket, he radioed Dennis in the submarine, which had not cleared Buccleuch Dock yet but was still several hundred meters away.

"Dennis, can you hear me?"

" _Yes_ ," came the crackling voice.

"Peter Winburgh is a spy in polyjuice. We can't take any risks, my friend." He hated asking Dennis to kill in cold blood, but was not going to risk the other families with misplaced mercy.

" _Understood."_ There was a brief pause, and then a shout followed by screams. " _It's done. See you back at Hogwarts."_

Harry switched channels. "Kathy, good work. Activate your portkey and get some sleep, we're doing it again tomorrow."

After he heard the telltale pop of her disappearing, Harry looked back down at the still petrified Draco Malfoy.

"I don't consider myself a cruel man, Draco," he said in a flat voice. "But I realize now that saving you all those years ago was a mistake I can't afford to repeat. Because we both know you'll just keeping murdering and ruining innocent lives, won't you? It's all you and your sick little family understand."

With flicks of his wand, Harry transfigured Draco's robes to cement. He levitated him over the edge of the dock, and dropped him into the water. He then turned and threw up over the dock until his stomach was empty. He vanished the sick-up and walked away.

"Damn you, Malfoy, for making me a murderer," Harry whispered before he too disappeared.

* * *

*MACUSA

I tend to sit on my stories for a while before I post. Since I haven't done beta reading in a while, I find a cold reading helpful in catching typos (there would be a lot more without, I promise) and any plot or character issues. A consequence, however, is that when canon changes in the meantime, my stuff can get out of date. My description of the American magical society predates Fantastic Beasts and all of the descriptions of America that came with it by _years_. More importantly, the shape of my AU America is important enough that trying to make it canon compliant will affect aspects of the story. So, consider my American magical society as AU.


	7. Lost Love

A/N: Review responses are in my forums as normal. I recommend you have a tissue handy for this one.

* * *

 **Chapter Seven: Lost Love**

April 1st, 2010

They were doing submarine runs almost every night, trying to save as many magicals as they could. Nor were they limiting themselves just to the families of current students any more—at least not now that Harry had a better idea of just how many berths were going to be available. Anyone who wanted to get to Hogwarts was welcome.

After days and weeks of the operation, though, Ginny Weasley knocked on the door of Harry's office in the headquarters building and said, "Harry, have you heard from Mum and Dad? Or Charlie or Bill?"

"No, I haven't," Harry admitted, thinking about them for the first time. "What about Percy?"

"He decided to stay with the new ministry," Ginny spat, eyes flashing angrily. "But Mum and Dad wouldn't have. Do you think…?"

"I'll check on the Burrow on our next run," Harry said without hesitation. "If they're there, I'll make sure they have seats on the next run."

"Thank you, Harry," she gushed. She turned to leave, but paused and looked back at him. "She's really good for you, you know."

It was a concession Harry never thought he'd hear. "You would have been too," he said softly. "For the record, I admit us not working was my fault. I'm sorry."

Ginny shrugged. "No point in holding a grudge about exes when the world's about to end, is it? Thanks for checking on my family, Harry. Fred and Ron have both been bugging me about it too."

That night, Harry assigned Davin Proudfoot and a contingent of aurors to collect the latest batch of refugees and as soon as he'd left the castle wards, he apparated directly to the Burrow.

The wards appeared to be a strong as always, Harry noted. The orchard appeared to have been cared for lately, though the house itself appeared to be in poor repair. He tested the wards and smiled when they allowed him through. Although his friendship with the Weasleys cooled after he and Ginny broke up, he remained cordial with Arthur, who actually worked under him in the DMLE.

He wasn't ten feet inside the property wardline when he saw a familiar figure step out of the door.

Charlie Weasley was one of the only Weasleys similar in height to Harry. However, he was broader of shoulder and girth, being very much a muscular fellow. He had touches of silver in his otherwise red hair, but looked strong and healthy as always.

"Holy Shite, it's Harry Potter," the second oldest Weasley said. His flat, emotionless tone belied what could have been friendly words. "What brings you here?"

"Ginny asked me to come by and check on you."

"Ginny? I thought you married that Muggleborn girl."

"I did. Ginny is still a friend."

"If it meant so much, you could have come sooner."

The challenge in the man's eyes was clear. "Charlie, I wasn't forcing anyone to come. I'm trying to save as many people as I can. I average four hours of sleep if I'm lucky, and I don't have the time or energy to put up with your shite. If you want me to go, I'll…"

"Charlie, shut up, _mon ami."_

Harry blinked in surprise as Fleur Weasley stepped from the front door, clad in an apron. She stepped right past her belligerent brother-in-law and gave Harry a French greeting on his cheeks. "Arry, it is so good to see you. I heard from Gabrielle that you are doing miracles, yes?"

Gabrielle Delacour had come with the last French contingent and was already working in Webber's team. "We're trying. Are your kids here?"

" _Oui_ , ze whole family is. We came when Arthur said Molly was sick."

Harry's stomach clenched tightly. "How is she?"

"She died," Charlie snapped, still angry. "This morning. We should have gone with the damned goblins."

Harry snorted. "Then you'd definitely be dead. Look, I'm sorry."

"Sorry don't cut it. If she meant anything then you should have been here…"

"Charlie, shut it, brother," Bill said as he too left the house to great them. He took Harry's hand in a firm shake. "It's been pretty bad, and no one seems to know for sure what's going on. Diagon Alley is a ghost town, and the so-called Ministry is killing anyone who looks at them sideways."

"Can I see Arthur?"

Bill ignored Charlie's glare and nodded. "He's in the parlor. Come on."

Harry followed Bill into the house. He heard children playing up stairs, but his attention was drawn to the still form just off the kitchen. They had laid Molly's body out on a table in the middle of the room, with sickles on her eyes and her hands clasped over her stomach. He was astounded at how thin she was in death. Sitting nearby, his cheeks rosy red and his eyes glazed, sat Arthur Weasley. Like Molly, the man had lost a startling amount of weight since Harry had last seen him. Staring at the kindly couple, who had taken him in and even risked their own lives for him and his cause, Harry felt a sudden, crushing weight of guilt. He knelt down beside Arthur and took his hand.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Hello, Harry," Arthur said absently. With what looked like physical effort, he turned his eyes from his wife and studied his guest. "You don't look like you're eating enough. Ginny always said you worked too hard."

"She was right," Harry said simply. "I'm…I'm so, so sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry."

He patted Harry's hand and looked back to his wife. "Nothing to be done, I'm afraid," he said. Harry realized with a start that Arthur never knew the whole truth of what was happening because the confidentiality agreements prevented Ginny, Ron or their other children from ever telling them.

And now, Harry could see it was too late. Arthur's hand felt hot to the touch, more so than normal. With a glance over his shoulder, he cast the diagnostic spell Hermione taught him and saw the man's magic was quickly boiling away under the onslaught of the radiation. He'd be dead before the day was out.

With knees that felt like Jelly, Harry stood and said, "Bill, we need to talk in private. You, Charlie, Fleur and me."

Bill nodded, and they left Arthur sitting in the parlor as they walked toward the kitchen. A tea service was out under heating charms. The kitchen felt so empty and cold without Molly and her dozens of charms keeping it going. Once they were seated, Harry took a deep breath and said, "Arthur's not going to last the day. I'm sorry."

Charlie's eyes flared, but Fleur placed a hand on his wrist while Bill merely nodded. "The Goblin's prophecy about magic sweeping the world…?"

"A load of bollocks," Harry said. "It's a thousand times worse."

He told them, leaving nothing out. He explained Hermione's initial studies with the Indian Ministry, and Shacklebolt's public refusal to help and his secret maneuverings to funnel money that may have ultimately cost him his life.

"We have a ship we're building," Harry finally said. "Ron and Lavender, Ginny, Fred and Angelina are all there, helping. Percy went with the Wizengamot. We're going to expand it enough to fit everyone inside, and everything we'll need to keep them safe and alive. And the Goblins and Ministry are trying to stop us, for some reason. They murdered many of the families of our Muggleborn students, and quite a few more besides. We're smuggling those we can into Hogwarts on a Muggle submarine. And I promised Ginny there would be places for you on the next trip."

"But Dad…" Charlie began.

"Charlie, he's already dead," Harry said gently, hoping to ease the sharp words as much as possible. "There is so much radiation in his body its burning his magic up. I'm so sorry."

Charlie snapped to his feet, but as he did a stunningly beautiful girl with copper hair and porcelain skin like a doll ran into the room. "Mama, Dominique hit Louis for no reason, and made him cry!"

As if on cue, they could hear crying wafting own the stairs. " _Mon dieu_ ," Fleur muttered. "Come, Cherie, let us go see to the little one, yes?"

She stood, pausing only long enough to send Bill a long, loving look, and then was gone.

Faced with the two oldest Weasley brothers, Harry sighed. "In a way, this _is_ my fault," he admitted. "With the ICW sanctions, we made everyone sign magically binding confidentiality agreements. That's why Ron, Ginny or Fred couldn't say anything. I should have come and told Arthur and Molly, but things were happening so fast. Then Shack died and I had to lock Hogwarts down…"

"Can you get Ginny, Ron and Fred here?" Bill asked.

Harry nodded. "I'm keyed into the wards. I can apparate in an out. I'll bring them."

"Thank you," Bill said. "We need to be together as a family right now. When we're ready, we'll contact you."

"I understand."

The next day, after Harry pushed his limits apparating the three younger Weasleys to be with their family, Charlie's dragon patronus arrived at the castle to announce they were ready to come in. They just needed the day to bury their parents, since Arthur had died shortly after Harry left, and collect their belongings from the house.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Three days later, Harry noticed that Luna was still absent from the department meeting. In her place sat none other than Charlie Weasley. The former dragon wrangler also happened to have a mastership in magical creatures. "I asked him here, Harry," Neville said. "Hagrid said he's the best in handling creatures."

Harry merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak after their last emotionally trying conversation earlier.

"I'll start the meeting," Harry said tiredly. "We successfully got the last Hogwarts families in late last night. I lost count of how many submarine trips it took. We've also confirmed through my Muggle police contacts that the Ministry forces did indeed kill the Muggleborn parents."

Beside him, Hermione stiffened and stared at him in horror, since he had not had opportunity to share that fact with her. "All of them?"

"All of them," Harry said grimly. "My contacts in the Met are doing what they can, but our agreement is to help them protect their own against our people. They don't have the resources to investigate what is clearly a political crime of our Ministry. But that has brought up another issue. I believe that the _Invincible_ needs to be armed and shielded against potential attack in the air for when we lift off."

Harry expected a loud round of protests at this. Instead, from his seat beside Padma, Daniel Webber shrugged and made a few quick notes. "Okay. The Department of Magic had a joint development program with the US army for magical rail guns. They use coiled banishing runes and conjured metal. They'd be willing to trade. And the lodestones are an end-all solution for protection, as well."

"What do the American's want for the guns?" Harry asked.

"We're much further along than the Secretary of Magic thought we'd ever be," Webber admitted. "Based in large part on what we're doing here, they've decided to break with the ICW and pursue an ark ship along the same lines as ours. They've contacted me by magic mirror expressing their interest in our technomagery."

Harry studied the young man—since Waterstone's death, Daniel Webber had matured a great deal. He still sometimes acted distracted or even dotty, but a little of the spark had gone out of his eyes. On the other hand, he smiled more often, likely because of how Padma Patil sat next to him. He knew just from community gossip that they were openly an item.

"I'm afraid to ask, Daniel, but we're not going to hold anyone here against their will. Are we going to lose you to the Americans?"

The whole table looked at the brilliant young technomage, which caused him to blush brilliantly. "Er…they did offer. They offered a lot. But really…what's money worth, now? I…'

He glanced at Padma and Harry almost winced at the adoration on the young man's face. _Yeah, they were an item._

"I'm not planning on leaving, sir."

"Good," Harry said with a nod. "I don't think anyone here has any doubts about all that you've done for us. And it if makes any difference, I have no problems with you sharing your research. Tell the Secretary we will gladly share all schematics and research in exchange for the weapons. I've said it before—I'm willing to share everything we have if it means people surviving. Daniel, what effect will weapon placements have on the design?"

"None," Daniel said, more comfortable now that they were passed personal issues. "The ship doesn't have to be aerodynamic. Its shape is designed to maximize internal expansion charms. It could be a brick, and with our warp drive, it could still fly. Although the curves do increase the efficiency of the warp fields. Speaking of expansion charms, though…"

"We're going to need your magical muscle," Hermione told Harry. "We have the first habitat dome built and all the runes are being carved in place, but the expansion charm itself is going to require a lot of magic and expansion charms can't be done with plural casting. You're probably not going to be fit for much after, I'm afraid."

"When?"

"In the next two months. We should have the first dome completed and ready for the first expansion charm by mid-June," Hermione said. "The second we're hoping to have ready by September 1st. After that, we install the lodestones to test the gravity systems. If our theory is right, the lodestones will create an internal gravity totally independent of Earth's gravity so we should be able to start loading soil, water and essential supplies. We're scheduled to start loading sometime in December."

"We're cutting things close," Doctor Barnes noted. "I've already recommended lead lining in all existing dorm structures, but we're getting very close. We had another die last night. We're still trying to find a way to mitigate the radiation, but its slow going."

"Understood," Harry said. "It's your call, Doctor. If you think we need to evacuate people to the dry dock, give the word."

"Thank you," the other American department head said. "Also, please come see me when you have a chance this afternoon."

Harry nodded and the meeting continued.

Two hours later, Harry made his way to the hospital wing of the castle where Andromeda Tonks, Samantha Barnes and the rest of her medical staff had set up shop with Madam Pomfrey's blessing. The hospital wing was hardly recognizable from his days as a student—primarily because of a second level Barnes' people added to the vaulted wing. The wooden structure was solidly built over the ground floor, with stairs on either side and a magical lift in the middle for anyone too ill to walk.

Whereas the first floor was still dominated by rows of beds, the second floor level was covered in dozens of separate work stations in which various potions were being brewed or experimented on, dry erase boards covered every wall, and were in turn covered in dense writing. The space had obviously been expanded as well.

Barnes was talking with a trio of healers, two from Britain and one from France, when she saw him. With a nod of dismissal, she walked to meet him. "Welcome to the labs. Come, this way please."

She led him through the maze of work stations toward the very back of the expanded space, where there were several beds surrounded by white curtains. In a quiet, low voice, she said, "I wanted you to hear from me. Your friend Luna Lovegood collapsed a few days ago. We've done all we can, but she's fading quickly. I'm sorry."

"Her boys…?"

"Were here earlier. They're staying with your friend Ron Weasley and his wife at the moment."

Harry nodded, thankful that Lavender had taken the boys. Without another word, he stepped into the space and his breath caught.

The Luna he had known since he was fifteen was gone, replaced by a flushed, skeletal figure laying almost motionless in bed. He walked to the lone chair by the bedside and collapsed into it with weak knees. Her body was covered in a thick sheet of demron, and she had a cold cloth pressed over her forehead.

"How are you?" he managed to say in straight voice.

"Oh, I've been better," she said. Her tone was light, but her voice wispy and weak. "Gave the boys a fright, I'm afraid."

He took her hand—her skin felt like paper, dry and raspy, but also terribly hot.

"Harry?" she whispered. "What was it like, when you died?"

"It wasn't so bad," Harry said, equally soft in tone. "I was in what looked like the Hogsmeade train station, at least for me. Dumbledore was there waiting for me. You might say after Sirius died that he was the closest thing to a parental figure I had. He said I had a choice of coming back, or going on the train."

Luna smiled weakly, eyes closed. "I hope Rolf is there. And my Mummy—it would be so lovely to see my Mum and Father again. Harry, will you make sure my boys are safe?"

He didn't even realize he was crying until she asked, and a tear ran down his cheek. "I will, Luna. I promise."

"That's good. I know you keep your promises, as much as any man can. You were always my best, first friend."

"Always," Harry said, struggling not to sob. He sat with her, holding her motionless hand, for the next hour before the demron sheet over her chest stopped moving.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Harry held his wife as Hermione slowly wept on a warm, starry evening in mid-June. Around them, over two thousand mourners stood in respectful silence as the byre flames slowly consumed the body of Minerva McGonagall. Like Luna, she went to bed one day and never found the strength to get up. Filius Flitwick had taken over as headmaster for the Hogwarts students, with Sprout acting as his deputy. Fortunately, most of the teachers from Beauxbatons, Miskatonic and Salem's were able to step in since they had decided in May to consolidate their educational missions within Hogwarts itself.

The next morning, after a restless night in their lead-lined home on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry joined Hermione and most of the active workers on the _Invincible_ within the now expanded dry-dock, under the dome. From the bottom of the dock, the ship looked absolutely massive, especially from the aft side with the domed portion of the ship. The whole ship had been rotated until the snail-shell shaped dome was oriented to the ground, and already he saw the first few layers of the second dome under construction from the central axis of the ship.

Around him, hundreds of tents housed those residents deemed to be at high risk—older witches and wizards and the very young. Lorcan and Lysander were among the tents, living with Ron and Lavender while Ginny was helping with construction. Lavender herself was pregnant with her and Ron's second child.

"We have the air ducts ready," Hermione was saying. "They should get enough air in to pressurize the dome fairly quickly."

Across the still cushioned floor of the greatly expanded interior, Harry could see a large scaffolding which would take him to an opening in the dome—a triangular shape where both the inner and outer titanium alloy panels had been left off. Light was shining brilliantly out of the opening.

"Take a deep breath before you do it," Hermione said. "And make sure to secure yourself. It's going to create a huge vacuum until the air ducts can fill it. When you see the green light at the top, you can stop."

Harry nodded, trying not to let his increasing nervousness show. He was assured that this was not the largest space expansion charm every used. In fact, that honor belonged to the goblins, though the Ministry of Magic was also a vastly expanded space. It was, however, the largest space expansion charm to ever be cast by a wizard using wand magic.

He climbed up the scaffolding, and a glance over his shoulder revealed that Hermione had left to go to the dock's control center, but in her place stood hundreds of workers wanting to see what many were calling a magical miracle.

 _If_ he could pull it off. Harry himself was not sure—about any of the faith put in him, really. He often wondered if he deserved the adulation he received from his countryman. After all, he had nothing to do with Voldemort's first defeat, and his second victory was due far more to Dumbledore's labyrinthine scheming than Harry's abilities as a fighter.

Already he stood atop the scaffolding with his head just inside the first dome of the _Invincible._ Even without the expansion charm, the area looked vast. The dome as it was still stretched more than twice the length of a football pitch, a vast gray metallic bowl that first fell away from him, and then rose up in a steady slope until it met the edge of the central fuselage of the ship. Overhead, the sunstones shone with a brilliant, naturalistic light that felt almost as if he were standing outside on a bright day. At various points, he could see more missing triangles where Hermione and Daniel Webber's team had attached vents with huge hoses that would bring air in from outside.

"Merlin, I hope this works," he whispered as he fingered the Elder Wand. Then, he cast " _Expansorum Maxima!"_ in a powerful shout.

Immediately he felt air rushing in around him, so strong he feared it would break the bindings he'd tied himself to. As he pushed as much magic as he could through the infinitely powerful Elder Wand, he could actually see the securing runes placed like wall paper over the interior surface of the dome flashing brightly as they grabbed, held and secured the magic of the charm. The air shimmered, and as he watched, the interior of the inverted dome began to expand away from him, almost like a special effect in a movie, only faster and far, far more pronounced.

Still he pushed the magic. The air now roared around him, lifting his shirt over his head and tearing at the legs of his slacks. He saw birds shoot out of the vents, such was the powerful suction the spell had created.

He pushed more, crying out at the gargantuan effort. He couldn't even see the far end of the dome any more. His whole body shook like a thrummed string as he forced out every bit of magic he had. Just when he thought he was going to black out, two things happened at once. Overhead, one of the sunstones flashed green; and his bindings snapped.

The wind shot him into the expanded dome like a bullet, and he did not have any magic left to cushion his fall. He was dimly away of slamming into the metallic tiles, then nothing.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

He woke up in his small house. It was dark through their lead-lined windows. Hermione lay next to him, her naked body warming his. As if somehow sensing he was awake, she stirred and opened her eyes. "Harry," she said simply.

"How long was I out?"

"Two days," she said.

"Magical exhaustion?"

She snorted. "Skull fracture. Next dome, we're using better bindings."

"No argument there," Harry said. "Did it work?"

She leaned over and kissed him with the type of burning passion she only showed when she was around brilliant magic, mathematics, or physics. "Let's go see."

"What, now?"

"It's only a few minutes before dawn, Harry. Come on, I'll even help you wash."

Well, those types of offers didn't come along very often, so Harry was bound to accept. And he was glad of it, too. Even as an adult, he was accustomed to long stays in hospital beds, and always he hated the feeling of weakness that followed. He actually did need her help to wash.

Dressed and ready for the day, the two left their house and walked straight to the entrance of a lead-lined tunnel that would take them and others in their pod of houses and dorms directly to the dry dock while minimizing their exposure to the ever-present radiation. By the time they arrived, Harry was shocked to find that the second dome had added two more layers just since he was out.

The moment he and Hermione stepped from the tunnel into the scaffolding of stairs, Harry was astonished to hear clapping and cheers. He looked, dumbfounded, as the work crews stopped what they were doing to applaud him.

"What's that about?" He blushed even while waiving.

"You'll see," Hermione promised with a happy, excited smile.

They did not try entering from the bottom of the completed dome (or the top, depending on the orientation of the ship). Rather, they walked along the giant axis beam that ran the horizontal length of the ship and allowed them to rotate it. Once inside the central fuselage of the ship, itself filled with a multitude of expanded rooms, Hermione led him down several decks to the entrance to the dome itself. This half of the ship was oriented with Earth's current gravity, so it was easy enough to traverse the stairs down.

Hermione popped a thick, metallic hatch and pointed down.

Curious, Harry leaned over, and would have fallen if Hermione had not caught him. "Holy buggering Merlin," he whispered.

"That's almost four kilometers straight down," Hermione crowed happily. "Much of it is going to be covered by water, but your charm expanded the space of the sloped dome seventy times, Harry. It was two hundred and thirty-three meters long before, but when you were finished, it was over sixteen kilometers long, and one and three quarters of a kilometer high at the deepest part of the dome."

He got down on his hands and knees and leaned over the lip of the catch to stare, shocked, at the distant edges of the dome. He pulled himself back up in shock. "How? How can any wizard be that powerful?"

"Well, to be honest the runes did a lot of the work," Hermione said. "You remember my handbag? It was small, so I was able to expand it several hundred times. The larger the starting space, the smaller multiples of expansion you can do, and the more energy it takes. We calculated the length of the new fuselage and the sloped dome to reduce the amount of power necessary to do, say, a square, but we also created a runic map that would serve like a giant wand to focus and strengthen your magic, and then weld it into the surface of the dome itself. Not only that, but the expansion charm itself actually increased the tensile strength of the outer dome's surface by three hundred percent. It worked perfectly. I'll add that we believe only a dozen wizards in the world could have done it, and only you had a good chance to actually survive the process. Daniel said the Americans aren't even going to our scale. Instead, they're working on three smaller ships with a single, smaller habitation dome."

"Amazing," Harry whispered. "Well, that's me. I let others do the planning, and then I come and blast it with magic and get all the credit. But we both know this happened because of you, and Webber."

Hermione shrugged, her smile fading into a wistful smirk. "Harry, people are so scared. One of the American professors dropped dead in the middle of a class of mixed first years last week. Of course, you know about Minerva, but did you know that Delanie Hopkins died yesterday as well? She was forty, and showed no previous symptoms."

Harry had no idea who Delanie Hopkins was, but he wasn't about to say that. "I know things are bad, but…"

"The point is, Harry, people need hope. They need a hero. Everyone here knows that the only reason any of this is happening is because you, personally, refused to lie down and die. They know you bought the ship that we made this fuselage out of. They know it was you who talked McGonagall into letting us work here, and that it was you that convinced the other schools to liquidate their assets to get the funds we needed. Just like when we were younger, you are a hero, Harry. They need you. We all do."

Harry felt his cheeks blazing. "Well, it's good to be needed," he said softly. "Especially by you."

She kissed him, hard.

"So, when are we going to fill it up?" he asked, looking back down at the seemingly endless expanse."

"Not until the other dome is complete," Hermione said. "We have to have all the lodestones installed and magically charged to establish the gravity fields before we can load the domes. But soon, Harry. Very soon. And then each dome will have as much land space as the area between old town London and Brentley!"


	8. Killers and Soldiers

A/N: Chap 7 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thank you all for reading and reviewing.

* * *

 **Chapter Eight: Killers and Soldiers**

August 9th, 2010

Twenty-three days ahead of schedule Harry got to see the _Invincible_ in its final configuration. With one of the sloped domes, it was big. But with two of the domes in opposing order, it towered above the floor of the dock and forced them all to deepen the cavern yet again to make room for the two hundred meter total height of the great ship. They could no longer rotate it without vastly widening the dock as well, so the second dome was going to be expanded from the top.

Already they had two dozen two-meter thick tubes connecting various points of the dome to an outside air source to help reduce some of the drag. Around the height of the sloping domed portion at the aft of the ship, a scaffold had been erected and attached at several points to the distant walls to give Harry a firm area to rest on.

Harry flew from the entrance to the scaffolding on a broom. Two dozen or more witches and wizards stood either on the scaffolding, or on the various levels of scaffolding that covered much of the wall. Many applauded Harry just like last time, much to his embarrassment. He looked for and found the operations center dug into the castle-side wall of the cavern, almost level to the top of the ship itself.

Inside, Hermione stood with her arms crossed worriedly over her chest, while Webber, Padma, Neville and several other team leads stood watching nervously. Harry gave them a wave before flying to the scaffold.

"Mr. Potter," one of the workers said in a thick Cockney accent. "Tom Whitcombe. Doctor Hermione be asking me to lock you in real tight now."

"Well, better do what she says. That's what I do." Whitcombe and several others nearly laughed at the joke. Harry allowed the man to secure him to the scaffolding next to the missing triangular tile that gave him a view of the interior of the sloping dome.

"I did it once," Harry whispered. "By Merlin, I can do it again."

He positioned the Elder Wand into the space, closed his eyes, and bellowed: " _Expansorum Maxima!"_

Just like last time, the rush of air began immediately as the newly created space pulled in air to fill its vacuum. It pulled him against his bracing, causing the whole scaffolding to rattle and shake, but none of his bindings appeared to be threatened.

The securing runes worked just like last time, flashing brightly as they grabbed, held and secured his magic. The air shimmered, and as he watched, the interior of the sunstones below began to expand rapidly away from him, so fast it felt as if _he_ were the one moving, somehow falling in place.

From the corner of his eyes, though, he saw one rune flash a different color than the rest. He barely had time to see its shape when its red glare turned into a flare.

"Oh shite!" Harry shouted, right before the expansion charm failed.

All the air the expanding space pulled in instantly found itself compressed into a much smaller space. Harry magically severed his bonds and screamed. "Everyone move!"

But there was no time. The dome exploded outward, blasting sometimes intact triangles of titanium out and away. Harry cast his most powerful shielding charm, but could not stop the force that blew him through the scaffolding. He was dimly away of people screaming as he fell.

However, as it turned out, his own safety precautions saved him. Unlike the titanium surface of the first dome, when Harry hit the floor this time, he sank three feet into a cushioning charm before being thrown six feet back into the air. He bounced twice more before he came to a halt. Around him, he saw other bodies bouncing and ran to the nearest.

Tom Whitcombe stared up at the distant lights in the domed ceiling, blood pouring from his mouth. His hands clutched the piece of twisted titanium that protruded from his chest. All Harry could hear was a ringing sound, so he did not hear the horrified screams all around him.

When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he turned to see Hermione shouting something at him. "What?" he asked.

He'd never seen such a horrified expression on her face, not since that time she stood by his side and watched a time-looped version of himself and Sirius Black attacked by a horde of dementers. Frowning, he looked to where she pointed and stared with a distant sense of shock at his own personalized piece of titanium shrapnel buried in the right side of his chest.

"Oh," he said. "I guess that's why it's so hard to breathe."

She was shouting something, but he couldn't hear her. "I need a phial for a memory," he told her, not realizing he too was shouting. "Someone got a rune wrong."

Hermione switched from panic mode to business mode in a split second and conjured a glass phial. Harry pulled the memory and handed to her, and only then did he pass out.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

As much as he enjoyed waking up from his injuries next to a beautiful, naked wife, evidently the severity of his injuries did not permit a repeat performance from the last time. He woke up in the hospital wing under a canopy of demron curtains. And while there was a beautiful woman next to him, it was not Hermione.

It was Ginny Weasley.

"Well, hello, sleepyhead," she said with a smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got blown up," he said. His voice both sounded and felt like pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other. "'Least I can hear you, though. Where's Hermione?"

"Emergency Department Meeting," Ginny said. "In fact, they've been in it for about two days now, since the explosion."

"How many?" Harry asked quietly.

Ginny's smile faded into soberness; she didn't need him to clarify. "Forty six, mostly the people on the scaffolding, and a few who were hit by debris on the ground."

"And the ship?"

Ginny shrugged. "I know some of the sunstones were broken, so we're going to have to find some new ones. The dome was completely destroyed, but I don't think the rest of the ship suffered too much damage. It was a compression explosion, otherwise it would have been a lot worse. They're not telling us much right now."

The curtains parted to reveal Andromeda Tonks. "Good, you're awake," she said briskly. "Miss Weasley, thank you. I believe one of your brothers asked to see you in the pens."

"Right, duty calls," she said with a casual wave at Harry. "Stay well, Harry. We can't afford to lose you."

When she was gone, Andromeda gave Harry a long, grave look. "You almost died, Mr. Potter."

"Which time? I can't always keep track."

The answer did not make her happy. "You're going to be short of breath for the next week. Your wife has the potion regimen you are to take each night. No magic at all for ten days. I'm serious about this, Harry. You were very badly hurt, worse than anything in your medical history before. It was not a curse, it was a puncture wound to your lung. Lung tissue is extraordinarily hard to repair with magic."

"I promise, Andy," Harry said sincerely. "How's Teddy doing?"

"He was frightened by the explosion," she admitted. "We're rethinking having civilians in the docking facilities. We're just not sure where to put them."

Harry slowly pushed himself up right, and in so doing saw a nearly folded pile of clothes on the chair beside him, topped with his glasses and wand. "We'll make something work, Andromeda. We have no choice."

"Fine. You're free to go. Remember, no magic!"

Harry dressed and was not even five steps out of the castle when Hermione caught him. She looked pale, frazzled and sleep-deprived. She kissed him desperately before looking him hard in the face.

"Harry, we have a big problem."

"You mean beside the ship blowing up?"

"The damage didn't extend behind the first deck of the fuselage," she said dismissively. "We lost maybe six weeks construction time. No, the problem is how it happened. All the department heads have reviewed your memory, and there's no doubt. Someone didn't get a rune wrong, Harry. Someone sabotaged the process entirely. The rune you saw in your memory was a catalytic rune—like a fuse in a bomb. And it was not an accident. We have a saboteur."

Somehow, Harry was not surprised. "Show me."

They made their way to the dry dock where Hermione requisitioned them a pair of brooms since all the scaffolding was still being rebuilt. They flew down to the surface of the ship's central fuselage. Harry saw that those sunstones that survived had been shrouded to keep from blinding them as they walked. Around them, he saw some warped panels, but a surprising amount of the lower hull of the sloping dome survived.

"We're lucky, in a way," Hermione said as she pointed to some of the panels. "We think we're going to be able to salvage most of the titanium, and we have sufficient supplies left to replace what we can't salvage. The damage was mainly caused by the sudden increase in air pressure, rather than an actual chemical or magical explosion."

She finally reached a point toward the bow of the ship and pointed up to a few blackened tiles warped by heat and magic into twisted, melted shapes. "We pulled shift records. The person who set that rune was a Muggleborn seventh year from Salem's named Maloria Jeffrey. She was on the scaffolding when the dome blew."

Harry winced. "Is she…?"

"Yes. She was struck in the head by a panel and killed instantly."

"That's convenient," Harry said darkly. "Kill the assassin. I'm willing to bet she was under the _Imperius_ charm."

"That was our thought exactly."

The construction teams had already assembled new scaffolding and were inspecting the portions of the walls that survived. It was interesting because it gave Harry a good look and the twin-hulled construction. He knew that the ship would actually have brine-like sea water pumped into the space between the walls as an additional source of radiation shielding, as well as an emergency water and salt source if necessary.

"What have we done so far?"

"Omnoculars with protean charms to monitor activity," Hermione said. "We're not sure what else we can do."

Harry frowned in thought. "We're going to have to screen the Hogwarts families," he said at last. "And if that doesn't pan out, we'll have to screen the French and then American families." He sighed and lifted his hands over his head. It ached, but made breathing a little easier.

"How?"

"I'll take care of it," Harry said.

Hermione started to protest, but he simply took his hand. "Hermione, I was the head of the DMLE. Investigating crimes and interrogating suspects is my area of expertise, just like making all this work is yours. Let me handle it."

It was a statement of just how much she had matured not only as a person, but as his friend and wife, that she studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Okay. Let me know if you need anything," she said.

He kissed her. "Just you, love."

That afternoon, Harry met privately with Andromeda to discuss with her how he wanted to screen the Hogwarts families. She looked skeptical at first, before her face went absolutely blank and she simply stared at him until he finished.

"That…is a remarkably cold and cunning plan," she said. "One would almost say it was a Slytherin thing to do."

"It's the least disruptive plan with the greatest possibility of success."

"I agree. I'm just astonished you thought of it. I was frankly expecting mass arrests and interrogations."

The statement made Harry freeze a moment. "Andy, when have I ever…?"

"Not all communications have been cut off from the outside," Andromeda said. "I received a letter from my sister. Her son, my nephew, is missing. Did you kill him?"

With a glance around the room to confirm they were alone, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on her desk in the now two-story hospital wing.

"Andromeda, he led the attack against us during our first submarine rescue mission. I _legillimized_ him and saw that he, personally, murdered the parents and younger sibling of one of our Muggleborns. He did it because his parents ordered him to, but at the end of the day he did it. And he fully intended to keep killing. So yes, I killed the little shit, and I don't regret doing so."

"And did it make you feel powerful, Harry?" she asked coldly.

"It made me sick up on my boots," he snarled. "Damn it all, Andromeda, I am not the villain here!"

For the first time, her façade cracked. "He was blood, Harry. To both of us—he was your cousin too through the Blacks."

"He was a murderer, Andromeda." With a tired sigh, Harry slouched back in his chair. "His sixth year, he placed Madame Rosemerta under the _Imperius_ and forced her to give a cursed object to a student so Dumbledore would take it and die. That student was Katie Bell. She suffered in Saint Mungos for weeks from curse damage. He then gave a poisoned bottle of mead to Dumbledore, who gave it to Slughorn. It was just chance that Ron had a swig of it and would have died except for a bezoar I had. Draco was conflicted when he was young, Andromeda, I know that. That's why I saved him—to give him a second chance. But he burned that second chance when he committed cold-blooded murder on defenseless muggles."

"Was what you did any different?"

Harry slammed his fist on the desk. "Damned right it was, Andromeda Tonks! I saved the life of everyone he was planning to kill in the future, and if I'd done it sooner, innocent people would still be alive."

She'd reared back at the rare show of anger and studied Harry with wide eyes. Seeing the wary expression, Harry forced himself to take a deep, calmly breath.

"The world is ending, Andy. I'm doing everything I can to save people, but I just can't…I can't afford to be Dumbledore here. There is no time for second chances, not any more. Not if we want these people to survive. And I need you to tell me, Andromeda, whose side you're on. I know Narcissa is your sister. I also know that she is the one who ordered the Muggleborn families to be assassinated, and has ordered my death, and the deaths of everyone here."

She couldn't meet his eyes and instead looked to one side. "My choice was made when my daughter and husband were murdered," she whispered. "I just…I don't want it to ever be easy for you, Harry. You're so powerful, I shudder to think what you could be if you lost your humanity."

"I'll never be Voldemort, for one simple reason," Harry said. "I have friends and family like you. Will you help?"

"Yes, of course."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Ten days later all the rescued families were told they had to attend mandatory physicals to ensure they were healthy enough for space travel. Given none of them were part of the initial project and had no expertise with anything that would led them to believe otherwise, they obediently queued up in front of a series of three curtained-off stations in front of the castle.

Andromeda and two of her assistants did in fact perform physicals since it would be good information to have, but in the process they had the witches and wizards swallow a vitamin solution that happened to contain three drops of veritaserum.

They stepped into a second, hidden area of expanded space, where Harry and his aurors quickly and efficiently questioned them. Outside, hidden by invisibility cloaks and _disillusionment_ charms, another twenty of Harry's people watched the queue for any signs of commotion.

It was Dennis Creevey who saw the young, black witch in the back of the line slowly slip away from the rest when she saw how slow the line was going. He activated the protean charm on his badge to alert Harry, and then began to follow.

It was a mark of his boss's skill that Dennis did not hear Harry apparate to his side, but only felt the sudden rush of air. They were still a little unsure of just how Harry could apparate around the grounds when no one else could, but Dennis just assumed it had something to do with how Harry was able to strengthen the wards so well.

Ahead, the two invisible wizards watched as the young witch walked with a seemingly calm assurance through the many domed pens holding magical and non-magical food animals for transport; past the green houses and warehouses and dormitories, as if she belonged here.

"She's good," Dennis whispered.

She did not even turn her head when a loud thump back at the castle preceded distant, horrified screams. "Dennis, get back there, find out what's happening," Harry whispered. "I'm staying with this one."

As sometimes happened, Harry's entire focus shifted down to his pray; everything else became peripheral. That's why by the time he felt the wizard nearby, he only had time to glance his way before the killing curse was in the air.

It was not skill or reflexes that saved Harry's life. The other wizard simply missed. The killing curse flew four inches wide and to the left. Harry, under his cloak, squatted down and cursed the wizard back. The blasting curse blew the man clean off his feet and sent him flying through the wall of a green house.

Harry spun back to his target, but she was gone. Moments later, Davin Proudfoot swooped toward him on a broom. "What happened?"

"Ambush," Harry growled as he walked toward the fallen wizard. "Target got away. What was the explosion?"

Davin grimaced. "Suicide bomber. A French witch had a box of blasting potions and walked right up to the line of Hogwarts families."

"Oh Merlin, did we lose…"

"One of the people in line was a former Ministry worker and recognized the signs of the _Imperius_ ," Davin said. "He blasted the woman back right before the potions went off. Probably saved half the people there."

"Right, offer him a job," Harry said without an ounce of humor. He tapped his back to activate the protean job. "Dennis, did you get a tracer on our suspect?"

He couldn't help but grin when the younger auror said, "Who do you take me for, Boss? I marked 'em all. One through fourteen-thirty-nine. Our perp was fourteen-oh-eight."

"Davin get a squad together, and then have someone check the wizard that ambushed me. Chances are he was _imperiused_ , but we'll need to interrogate him to be sure. This witch is dangerous; I don't want any more slip-ups."

"Got it, boss."

They found her at the old school broom shed five minutes later by following the invisible, nearly undetectable auror tracer charm Dennis had placed on her. She'd charmed the door to the shed open but of course all the brooms were gone, having been moved to the castle for better security since they weren't playing quidditch anymore.

They could hear her cursing long before they could spot her because of her own very accomplished _disillusionment_ charm.

" _Revelo hominum!"_ Harry cast as soon as he and his broom-riding squad came into few of the open shed.

The charm pushed the young woman out of her _disillusionment_ with a rough shove. However, she recovered her footing instantly, spun on the ball of her right foot, and unleashed a furious fusillade of magic against the on-coming aurors.

Harry saw Dawkins fall from his peripheral vision but did not have time to help the man. Instead, he cast a powerful blasting charm not at the witch and her blue _protego_ charm, but rather at the shed behind her.

The shed exploded and the force of the explosion tossed the witch like a ragdoll onto the grass ten feet away. Harry landed beside her, took her wand in hand, bound her hands, and only then looked up to see who was injured. "Dawkins?"

"Fine, boss," the older auror called as he cradled a shoulder.

"Someone get him to the healers," Harry said before he looked down to examine his unconscious, injured captive. "And have Andromeda Tonks join me at headquarters."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

The witch must have just dosed herself with polyjuice, Harry reasoned, because it took nearly an hour for her black skin to pale until it was the tone of alabaster, and for her chocolate, almond-shaped eyes to change to round, blue eyes. Harry found himself staring into the stunningly beautiful features of Astoria Greengrass Malfoy—Draco's wife and the mother of his three-year-old son.

Given the witch's _occlumens_ shields, which at first glance appeared to be just as strong as Draco's, Harry didn't bother with _veritaserum_. Though it would have been obvious that she was fighting it, he had no doubt she _could_ fight it, just like he could because of his own _occlumancy._

He sat across from the young mother in a former storage closet turned interrogation room. Hermione had charmed one of the walls into a one-way mirror so that she and other department heads could see and hear. There was not much to do for either, however. Astoria sat perfectly still and silent, glaring with all the hatred any one human could summon.

Harry sat in silence himself, staring at this mute testimony to his own questionable decisions. He hadn't even thought of Draco's son when he killed the wizard, nor of his wife. Only of those that Draco fully intended to kill and those he had already killed. It was thinking about family that Harry realized how he was going to approach this interview.

"You knew Luna Lovegood." It was a statement of fact, since Astoria was one year below Luna's year at Hogwarts, and both had been in the arithmancy club. "You know she died four months ago. Radiation poisoning, just like her husband Rolf. They spent years in Norway hunting their mythical beasts, though Luna admitted it was mainly just because they enjoyed camping together. But it turns out there was a hole in the ozone layer there, resulting in a more intense saturation of the microwave radiation. She was one of my very best friends. I was holding her hand when she died."

Astoria said nothing, but Harry didn't expect her to.

"The problem with the goblin's prophecy, and the story they've fed to you and your family, Astoria, is that it isn't the cataclysm that's going to wipe out magic. It's the radiation. I could have Padma Patil come in and tell you about the work the Indian Department of Mysteries has done, or the ICW studies, but it would take too long. You might understand it—I'll admit that's not my area of expertise. But what I do know are goblins. Goblins are spiteful, hateful creatures. And we're the target of that hate—wizards and witches. If they knew they were going to die, because their religion and magic forbade them from trying to leave earth, what would they do? What purpose would they have left?

"I'll tell you. The goblins only purpose left is to ensure they take all wizards and witches down with them. If you go down into those caverns with the goblins, Astoria, Scorpius will die."

For the first time, she winced. She could have withstood him speaking badly of Draco, her sister, her parents or in laws, but a statement like that against her only son was not something she could take easily.

"You killed my husband," she finally said in a low, thick voice. "We found him at the bottom of that channel."

"And you killed forty-six innocent people when you caused that explosion," Harry countered. "The family Draco murdered that night, Astoria? They had another child too, only four. Draco killed her without even blinking."

"Mudblooded…"

"A child, Astoria. Muggle or not, she was just a little girl. And your husband murdered her. So yes, I killed him for all the other little girls you know damn well he would kill in the future." Harry stood up, pacing across the little room.

"I'm never going to help you," she snarled defiantly.

Though it saddened him, Harry knew with that declaration he'd won. He sat back down and stared into her now glimmering eyes. Astoria was much smarter than Draco; she knew she'd lose. "Lower your shields, take veritaserum—cooperate—and when we are done you can go free. And if you chose, you can bring Scorpius and we will take him through the ward. Your son can live."

The shimmer spilled over into a single tear down her cheek. The tear might as well have been a bullet for how the sight of it hurt Harry. Because they both knew exactly what he was saying.

"He's my only son," she whispered. "I'm his mother."

"And if I thought, even for a second, that I could trust you, this would be a different conversation. But it's too late for you, Astoria. You murdered forty six innocent people and almost murdered many more just today. There is no place for you here. There is no place for any of the witches and wizards who've tried to stop us. But Astoria, we are the future of the magical race. And that's why there will always be room for magical children."

With that, he stood and left before she could say anything. Out in the hall, he passed by department heads and his aurors alike. Many started to speak to him until they saw his expression and held their peace. He stalked stiff legged out from the building, and then without hesitation disapparated right into the small home he shared with his own wife.

Hermione found him there thirty minutes alter with a half-empty bottle of Ogden's in front of him. She didn't say a word as she stepped through the door, closed, locked and then warded it behind her. She pulled up a chair at the table beside him and simply sat, one arm around his shoulder.

After a few minutes, Harry finally spoke. "After I killed Draco, I sick-upped all over. At first I thought it was because I killed a classmate I'd known since I was eleven, but just now I realize that wasn't it. I was sick because I didn't feel anything about killing him at all. And just now…I condemned a young mother to death, and forced her to choose her son's life or her own. What… what kind of monster am I?"

"You're the kind of man who is so generous and so strong that even while you fight your enemies, you give their families a chance to survive," Hermione said softly. "I know you were using her son to manipulate her, Harry. But I also know that your offer to take Scorpius in, and then extend that to any Ministry children, was genuine. Because you will never hold the sins of the father against the son."

"Astoria is going to die."

"But not by your hand. And you will give her son a chance to live."

"I'm a killer."

Her painful grip on his hair, forcing his head up, shocked him out of his depression. He turned to see her glaring at him, as fiercely as any time he'd ever seen. "You are not a killer!" she snapped, her own eyes moist and her voice rich with emotion. "You are a soldier, Harry Potter! You are a general. If you kill, it's to save other people, because that's what you do! You are not a killer, because I would never fall in love with a killer. Do you understand me?"

Staring into her eyes, Harry's stomach clenched again, this time with the nearly painful surge of love he felt for this woman. Without a word, he leaned forward and captured her in a long, hard kiss that soon spiraled out of control.

An hour later, dressed and showered, they returned to the headquarters building by the edge of the lake, within a stone's throw of the towering dry dock facility, and found Astoria spilling her guts out under veritaserum to Davin Proudfoot.


	9. The Price of Competence

A/N: Chap 8 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Nine: The Price of Competence**

September 23, 2010

Harry stood, arms crossed, between a still cool Andromeda Tonks and Neville Longbottom, as Dr. Samantha Barnes and two of her assistants drew blood from one of Charlie Weasley's dragon wranglers. The young woman, not even thirty, collapsed the previous day from radiation poisoning.

Charlie himself sat beside her, holding her hand with a tenderness none of his friends or family had seen him display for anyone else. Barnes stood, patted Charlie gently on the shoulder, and then walked toward the waiting party.

"The potion works," she said without hesitation.

Harry sighed in relief, but stilled again when she held up her hand. "Within reason," Barnes continued sharply. "The potion does not wash away all radiation, only a portion of it. In this case, Miss Withers body was so saturated that she is still in grave danger. We are going to have to keep her in a shielded location and apply the potion daily just to keep her condition from progressing. It's a treatment, and one that I am going to recommend for everyone here, but it is not a cure."

The radiation potion at first sounded like a miracle, one the American delegation to the ICW provided to all ICW member states for free. Amazingly enough, the potion itself was simple enough in execution that most OWL students could brew it—even Harry.

But of course, reality had now set in. "Do we have enough supplies for it?" Harry asked.

Barnes scowled. "Mr. Potter, I am a witch. I know magic. I shall make the potion last."

Padma chuckled darkly. "Remember, Harry, we can't conjure food or potions, but we can use magic to duplicate it. We can usually quadruple a potion before it starts to weaken its effectiveness."

"Quite right," Barnes said. "We are going to start producing it _en masse_ , and will duplicate large vats of it for distribution to the general population. I will say this—it's the only progress on the radiation issue I've seen. While it is not as powerful as I'd hoped, frankly I will take what I can get."

Harry nodded briskly. "Right. Thank you, Doctor Barnes. Please let me or Neville know if you do happen to need any supplies."

Barnes almost smiled. "I certainly will, Mr. Potter."

She returned to her work, and Andromeda joined her without a word to Harry or his friends. As he, Neville and Padma left the vastly expanded hospital wing, Neville said, "Merlin, Harry, what was that about? Doctor Barnes looked like she was about to slap you."

"Dr. Barnes and Healer Tonks are friends," Harry said.

"So?"

Padma cleared her throat. "I'll tell you about it later, Nev. You wanted to show me those pecan trees?"

Neville looked from Harry's grim expression to Padma's welcoming smile and shrugged. "Right. Come on, then. We got our first crop yesterday."

That left Harry walking alone through the castle. He absently pulled out his organizer—he had a security meeting in two hours, and was scheduled for a meeting with a group who wanted to talk about setting up an impromptu barter system within the community after that, which meant he had two hours of precious free time.

Back home, he fixed himself a sandwich since the elves were busy elsewhere, and after he ate he laid down in bed with one of the supply reports. Evidently people were eating more than they initially projected and Padma had made a recommendation that they risk leaving the wards for a large scale shopping trip.

He had another report from the Met about criminal magical activity—they were requesting additional wizards due to a sharp uptick in crime.

After a moment's thought, he pulled out his organizer and made a note to suggest the possibility of having the PM's office do their food shopping in return for additional aurors. It would reduce the risk to their non-military people. He would also have to start recruiting from their resident population for more aurors or hitwizards.

He wasn't even aware at what point he fell asleep, only that when his auror badge buzzed loudly on his chest it woke him from a wonderful dream of Hermione trying to clean all that honey off his body with her tongue.

"This is Potter," he said after he gathered enough intelligence to respond to the call.

"Boss, this is Creevey," came Dennis Creevey's distinctive, high-pitched voice. "We got some folks on the wardline wanting in. One is demanding to speak to you. Says her name is Lorraine Themis."

Harry sat up abruptly, the surge of adrenaline sweeping his sleepiness away. "Dennis, are you telling me that the solicitor general of the Wizengamot is at our wardline?"

"Sure looks that way. A few families too."

"Right, I'm on my way." He considered ordering a unit formed at the site, but decided to hold off to see if Dennis would take that initiative himself.

When he apparated to the ward line, something only he could do because of his blood-link with the wards, he was once again dressed appropriately in his aruror robes. With a pleased nod, he saw that Dennis had indeed pulled together a squad on his own prerogative. They were standing in a hemisphere facing the newcomers.

Around them, Harry saw the ward sappers were still going at the ward wall with minimal effect. He walked forward to meet the newcomers and saw that the woman at their lead had the thin, spare, severe features of the Wizengamot Solicitor General he had worked with in the past as first an auror, and more frequently as the DMLE department had.

"Madame Themis," he said with a respectful nod. "I was under the impression you had decided to stay with the Goblin-backed ministry."

"As subtle as always, Mr. Potter," the harsh witch said. "For all intents and purposes, the Ministry of Magic does not exist. With the assassination of the Minister and Senior Undersecrtary of Magic, by law the leadership of the Ministry falls to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In the absence of a lawful ministry established after Kingsley's death, the original order of succession remains in place. I am here, Mr. Potter, because by law and tradition you are now the Minister for Magic of the United Kingdom. And I am your solicitor general. Now, will you let us in so that we may discuss the transfer of powers like adults?"

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

September rushed to an end with a cold rain that swept through Hogwarts Valley. They no longer even bothered calling it Hogwarts Castle because so much had changed.

The central, overreaching reality in the lives of everyone there was the giant, domed dry dock where the _Invincible's_ second dome was being rebuilt. However, other changes were being made to the ship which they never envisioned at first.

The Americans shipped them two more rail guns, but these were of a size greater than any of the other weapons they'd placed over their ship. With the two guns came an invitation from the Secretary of Magic to tour the American technomage project.

"We will go, of course," was Hermione's straightforward response when he showed her the invitation.

In the meantime, Hermione and Daniel worked on the central fuselage of the ship, altering the bow and aft to add additional structural integrity, and to make room for the vast rail guns.

The weapons themselves were the very best, and most destructive, combination of muggle science and magic. Using one of the most complex and amazing runic arrays Harry had ever seen, the rail gun allowed a "gunner" to conjure a large metal ball, no more than the size of a bowling ball, and accelerate it using the array of repelling runes to almost relativistic speeds. The bowling ball melted from the acceleration almost into a solid stream of metal that tore into its target with terrifying power.

Or so the theory went. Harry had no intention of firing the weapons until there was no possibility of them hitting anyone.

This was especially true because of how crowded Hogwarts Valley was. Dormitories with six apartments were torn down and replaced by apartment complexes with sixty homes each. Towers rose above the Forbidden Forest in a disconcertingly modern architecture that the Americans insisted on. They had no choice but to lay down conjured paving for what was fast becoming a real, international city of French, British and Americans, with a fair sprinkling of Canadians and Indians as well.

Harry had little choice but to appoint an assistant, since he found his attention pulled in so many ways he had difficulty keeping track and missed several meetings. Hermione solved the problem by siccing Parvati Patil on him.

The Gryffindor twin did not have her sister's scientific or analytical leaning, but Harry was astonished to discover that she was a meticulous planner and by dint of being such a huge gossip even later in life she knew damned near everything.

He also discovered that she answered as much to Hermione as she did to him.

The two women cornered him one night after a nineteen hour day left him bleary-eyed. "Harry, it's time to start delegating," Hermione said seriously. "You just can't do everything yourself."

Taking the message to heart, after five hours of precious sleep Harry made his way to the Project Headquarters building, which is where he maintained his office. Parvati was already there and dressed to the nines.

"Did you sleep?"

"Sure," she said brightly. "You have an eight o'clock meeting with Proudfoot and Creevey, by the way."

"When is that?"

"About five minutes ago. They're already in your office."

Harry sighed and thanked Merlin he was on such good terms with the two aurors. He stepped through the door into his cramped, crowded office where the two aurors sat talking softly with cups of black tea in hand. Harry, himself, was very pleased to see a sausage, egg and cheese sandwich on his desk next to a steaming cup of strong, black morning tea.

"'Morning," he growled around a yawn as she sat down.

"Boss," Davin said. Creevey merely nodded. Immediately the older Auror dropped a stack of Muggle reports on Harry's already bulging desk. "Incident reports for the past week. The extra aurors are helping, but things are still pretty bad. We lost a man Thursday to a killing curse."

"Who?"

"Cooper, one of the American recruits."

"Damn." Harry stared hatefully at the stack. "Davin, let's say you were Head Auror. What would you be doing different?"

The older auror rubbed his chin in a sign of his own exhaustion. "We have the aurors moving as their own unit in Special Operations. I think we need to move it out of New Scotland Yard to MI5. We need to embed our people with their units. They bleedin' have cameras everywhere. We can react quicker across the whole kingdom and…"

Harry raised a hand to stop him. "Congratulations, Davin. You're head auror."

"Boss?"

"I've just got too much to do. My wife and secretary last night reminded me that I was pulling a Dumbledore—running lots of different shops and not doing any of them well. You're a good auror, and if not for Shacklebolt's man-love for me, you'd probably have been the director anyway. We don't need a director any more, but we need a good head auror, so that's you. I want you to run the program with the muggles anyway you see fit. You come to me with results, and if you need more manpower."

Harry turned to Creevey. "You're a captain now, congratulations. I want you handling internal security. Davin's your boss, but to be clear Davin I want Creevey local."

He could see Davin's mind moving quickly. "I can do that, Boss."

Harry sighed and rubbed his face. "Probably better than me. I should have done this weeks ago. I've always had faith in my people, I'm just not sure why I couldn't let go when I needed to."

"Because you care, Harry," Dennis said plainly. "You always have. But we'll get things done. And now I get to call Proudfoot here 'Boss.'"

Davin rolled his eyes. "Great."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

October 3rd, 2010

Twenty miles northwest of the small mining down of Ajo, Arizona, two men and two women appeared with a sudden, loud pop. Having come from a late fall in Scotland, they were all dressed warmly and so were not prepared for the 32 degree Celsius heat.

All four wore heavy, black robes and wide broad-brimmed hats that seemed to suck in the sunlight. They immediately pulled on large, round sunshades. "Are they running late, do you think?" Hermione asked.

Harry, though, pointed to a lone black _Suburban_ with thick, all-terrain tires waiting nearby. Someone climbed out—a wizard with a balding head hidden under a broad-brimmed hat as large and black as their own. In fact, his robes looked the same as theirs.

"Minister and Doctor Potter? Dr. Webber? And you must be Madam Themis." This to their fourth companion, the severe and very unfriendly-looking Lorrain Themis. She merely nodded at the jovial man.

"You must be Doctor Kapernicki," Harry said.

"Yes, a pleasure to meet you," the wizard said as he shook their hands. "Please climb in. The car is shielded—this is a high radiation area."

The five of them quickly climbed back into the spacious, air-conditioned vehicle. Charles Kapernicki removed his hat and wiped sweat from his brow. "It is hot out there. Doctor Webber, welcome back to America. How was the portkey?"

"Bumpy," Daniel griped a little sullenly. He brightened. "But I hope it's worth it."

"We'll see shortly."

He drove them through the desolate, blasted, lifeless landscape. Harry noticed the man's hands were shaking when they weren't on the wheel. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Kapernicki admitted. "I collapsed last week, but the new cleansing potions out of Franklin Labs have made a huge difference."

Harry himself now took doses of the potion daily, as did the rest of his companions. The American wizard who first created the potion already had an Order of Merlin. The problem was that it was a gradual process—they had to take the potions every day while trying to limit their radiation exposure.

The potion, Harry knew, played a key role in America's freedom from the ICW restrictions on developing the technomagery necessary to leave the Earth.

Of course, for wizards already on the verge of death by radiation poisoning, the potion merely bought time. Kapernicki was living on a borrowed clock, and he knew it. Instead of talking about the potion which was barely keeping him alive, he spoke to Webber.

"I have to say, Dr. Webber, how brilliant it was to apply a magical solution to a Muggle theorem. The Alcubierre Drive was dismissed as a triviality because of the exotic matter required to make it work. But using magically charged lodestones was just…brilliant!"

Harry half listened to the discussion—he couldn't help but pick up the theory of the drive by being around those creating it. He knew the magical lodestones could simulate the "exotic" matter necessary to bend space, time and gravity. He just couldn't even begin to understand how or why. That was Hermione's job, after all.

They reached their destination—the road ran into a tunnel through what looked from the outside to be a worn, weathered mountain of rock. They passed through a security check point just inside manned by Muggle military police with assault carbines. Further into the tunnel, they passed through a powerful Muggle-repelling and anti-apparition ward.

"We're getting a lot of cooperation from Washington," Kapernicki confessed when he noticed Harry's look at the guards. "At first it was guilt money, but when the National Science Advisor found out just what you and your people accomplished across the pond, they decided it might be worth funding. I have to admit the money is how we were able to catch up with you so fast."

What trepidation Harry might have felt by the Americans completing their ship first was completely offset by both the potion they shared and the fifty magical rail guns that were currently being installed on the _Invincible_.

In truth, he felt better knowing that the _Invincible_ was not going to be the only magical ship. The idea of captaining the only survivors of the wizarding race was a heavy burden. Sharing it made him feel much, much better. They drove out of the tunnel into the largest interior space Harry had ever seen. It dwarfed their dry-dock facility entirely.

The entire mountain had been carved out, and overhead a retractable domed roof gave mute evidence of where the three ships currently under construction would leave from.

The ships themselves were significantly smaller than the _Invincible,_ but were of almost the same exact design save instead of two opposite sloping domes forming a curving rhomboidal shape, each ship had a single forward-sloping dome on a thick rectangular fuselage. The fuselage was two hundred feet long and sixty feet wide, and thirty feet thick throughout, while the dome at its height extended another sixty feet above the central fuselage.

The other two ships were still under the early stages of construction, which did make Harry feel a little better.

"Harry Potter!"

Harry blinked and found himself being approached by a whole phalanx of wizards and witches led by none other than the Secretary of Magic himself, Oliver Courtier.

"Mr. Secretary," Harry said with a nod while he took the man's hand. He was intimately aware of the many camera flashes going off. "Thank you for inviting us."

"Well, since the inaugural flight of the _Enterprise_ wouldn't be happening without you, it felt only right to have you witness it."

The Secretary of Magic was a consummate politician, with hair not even Lucius Malfoy could have critiqued, and a chiseled, handsome face lightly touched with cosmetic charms to ensure his skin did not gleam or reflect the light with any natural oils. His handshake felt firm and practiced, and his three-piece Muggle suit was expensively tailored.

But for all his political appearance, Harry knew Kingsley had respected the man and, as much as any politician, Courtier at least tried to do the right thing. So he smiled and played the politician himself, even fielding a few questions about the tumultuous state of affairs in England before the Secretary's people called off the press.

Harry could feel the _Muffliato_ charm the Secretary's security cast on them as they walked toward the completed ship.

"Mr. Secretary, may I introduce my wife, Doctor Hermione Potter, our colleague Doctor Daniel Webber, and Madame Lorraine Thetis, Esquire. Daniel, Hermione and the late Doctor Waterstone are responsible for the design of the Waterstone drive."

"So I've heard," Courtier said as he shook their hands. "It's a remarkable piece of work, and the fact that you had monocular recordings of a test flight making it to Mars in seconds is what made all of this possible. Without President Wilson's backing we would never have received the funding or support to do this. And Lorraine, it's wonderful to see you again. How are your granddaughters?

"Alive at Hogwarts, thank Merlin," the aged solicitor said. "Thank you for asking."

They were hustled into a spacious conference room bulging with various foods. Kapernicki followed, along with two granite-faced guards. Once the door was closed, the Secretary's entire countenance shifted. It was remarkable watching the man's smile fade, his shoulders slump and his back bend under the weight of inevitability.

"Please help yourselves," he said with a wave toward the trays. "I hope you can forgive me, Mr. Potter. It's been a long day."

"I understand," Harry said carefully. "I'm very sorry to hear about your parents."

"They were both approaching a century. As much as I loved them, they had a good life. But my wife collapsed last week. She's in a lead-lined emergency shelter in Boston drinking that radiation potion like water. We're hopeful."

The politician was gone, replaced by a worried husband, father and grandfather. With a glance back to his wife, Harry walked to the bar and rather than mix drinks, grabbed a bottle of fine Cognac and several glasses and simply carried them to the table. Courtier smiled at the gesture and accepted a sniff of the drink.

"The British ambassador screamed bloody murder over our having you visit," the Secretary said. "Even went so far as to complain to President Wilson."

"And?"

"His Visa was revoked and he was forcibly expelled from the country. The US magical ambassador was recalled as well and we have refused to acknowledge the so-called Ministry as the legitimate government of Magical Britain. The PM over there not only understood, but applauded our action. I understand the only reason they haven't tried to bomb Diagon Alley is because of the aurors you personally lent Scotland Yard. That's why we, the Canadians and French have formally acknowledge you and your group as the legitimate ministry."

"Bulgaria, Italy and most of the other nations would argue that point," Harry said.

Courtier shrugged. "Those nations are all fairly in debt to or dominated by the goblin's gold economy, and they didn't have their own Harry Potter brave enough to break away. Be that as it may, here you are recognized as the magical head of state for the United Kingdom, with the full knowledge and blessing of Her Majesty's government. Too bad it doesn't change much," Courtier added. He took a drink, but his eyes never left Harry. "When is your ship going to be complete?"

For the Secretary's question, Harry looked to Hermione, who of course had their schedule memorized. "We were set back due to a case of sabotage, but with our new schedule we should have preliminary construction completed in two weeks," she said without hesitation. "We'll have Harry expand the dome and install the loadstones, and then we'll be ready for our first test flight. If it works, we'll begin loading materiel and supplies immediately. We hope to have the ship fully loaded and ready for take-off by the end of the year."

"And how many people will be on it when it leaves?"

Hermione tallied a few quick numbers. "Right now? Twenty-three thousand. This number includes quite a few Americans from Salem's and Miskatonic, and their parents. In fact, we have more Americans than we have English. Of course, we're hoping more families will join us, but unfortunately the British community is sometimes…well, dense."

"I've been told," he said, distantly. "Mr. Potter, I'm really here today to speak to you. Unfortunately, there was a steep price for President Wilson's support."

"Oh?"

"We're not leaving," Kapernicki said. Though he smiled at the statement, Harry saw wistful sadness in the man's face. "The deal is that we get the materials and infrastructure to build these ships, and in return we build Muggle ships as well as ours. Half of our designers are either Muggle or Muggleborn. The three we have mostly built will be the only ships available for our magical population—the next six are supposed to be for Muggle citizens. Trying to retrofit the design specs has proven difficult."

"I'd say more than that," Hermione said. "Long term exposure to the magical fields could be dangerous to Muggles."

" _Will be_ ," Kapernicki corrected. "We've confirmed that Muggles begin to deteriorate within a few months in a magic-saturated area. And we can't fix it. These ships will never hold Muggles safely. The fields have the same effect on Muggles that the radiation is having on us. But if we admit that, then we lose our funding. If we leave on the first ship, they'll pull the plug on the rest. They may even try taking them by force—they have a lot of heavily armed personnel here that we do not have direct control over."

"I and the senior members of the Department of Magic will be remaining behind," Courtier said soberly. "Doctor Kapernicki and most of his staff will as well. Though we will be lying through our teeth, by remaining we hopefully will buy time for at least some of our people to escape. As you know, the Department is not allowed to maintain a standing military, only a single magical National Guard unit of two hundred, plus our law enforcement department. We do not have a strong military infrastructure or hierarchy. Our leaders are political. Canada and France are both in a similar circumstance. That's why I want to draft a treaty with you, Mr. Potter, as the head of the British magical ministry, to be overall commander of any magical craft that leave this Earth between our two nations."

"You want me in charge of the American ships?" Harry asked, astonished.

Courtier chuckled. "Augustin Clements was my transfiguration professor at Ilvermorny, and was an advisor for me while I ran the American DMLE. I trust his judgment. He and Professor Franklin-Claggett both spoke very highly not just of your magical ability, but of your natural leadership. The fact you are here, now, is proof. I don't have anyone internal I can trust with this, Mr. Potter. To trust with my daughter, her husband and my grandchildren. And if you agree, I am more than willing to share resources with you. You liked those guns? We have bigger ones—massive monsters that can put enough kinetic energy into a conjured piece of metal to make a nuke look like a slingshot. The ICW was building them in case the Muggle world ever turned on us and the President has no idea they exist."

 _That_ was something new to Harry. "Every little bit helps," he said. "Mr. Secretary, for me it's not of question of whether or not I'll help—of course I will. If you want me in charge, then I'll do my best. I'm just not sure your people would accept me."

Further down the table, Kapernicki laughed. "Mr. Potter, you're something of a superman here in the States. Americans love the idea of the lone hero fighting the good fight and winning. I don't think there's any risk of our people rejecting you."

"Especially if there is a treaty in place signed by me," Courtier said. "There's a reason I've been in office for fifteen years, and it has nothing to do with corruption. So, if you're in agreement, let's get the paperwork done first so we can watch this remarkable ship take off."

Neither Harry nor Hermione were lawyers, but Madame Thetis was not just any lawyer—she was the best Magical Britain had to offer. She accepted one of the four copies of the parchment treaty with quiet dignity and began reading over it with her wand like a guide. Harry and Hermione took another copy and read themselves, while Daniel played with his carbon wand in ill-restrained boredom.

The treaty the Americans drafted was astonishingly clear, using simple, easy-to-understand language. It formed the North Atlantic Magical Preservation Organization and appointed Harry as Admiral and Plenipotentiary of the magical governments of England, The United States, Canada, and to Harry's continued surprise, France.

More surprising still, the French Minister for Magic had already signed the treaty, and her signature was witnessed by Francois Delacour, Fleur's father.

"Madame Maxime had words with Minister Suaveterre. It was smart getting the schools on your side," Courtier explained with a wry smile when Harry questioned it. "The headmasters always had a huge hand in shaping the political landscape of their respective nations."

The Canadian Minister for Magic had signed as well, making it a four nation union. Mexico was noticeably absent, Harry saw. However, he knew that the Spanish brought goblins with them when they colonized the country, whereas the Americans vehemently refused to let goblins into their territories.

He knew prior to coming that Courtier wanted to discuss the project with him, but the scope was surprising. He turned to Hermione, and saw immediately that she was not surprised. "So how much did you know?"

"You were doing a duty rotation with the aurors in London when Madame Themis mentioned it," Hermione explained. She didn't apologize, which meant she believed strongly it was the right thing to do. But it also meant that she felt comfortable with everything.

He looked to the aged attorney. "Madame Themis?"

"The treaty is much I expected," she said. "We used simplified language for future generations, assuming there are such generations. Secretary Courtier, the other heads of state and I agree that in times of great danger, having a fully functioning democratic government can be problematic. It is impossible for any committee to make snap decisions that may be necessary for our survival. This treaty gives you a remarkable amount of power, Mr. Potter, but also provides a frame work for a switch over to a more democratic government as circumstances allow. It also ensures the preservation of basic rights for all members of your fleet. As Solicitor General for the Wizengamot, I recommend you sign it."

"Hermione?"

"It gives us something we're going to need," Hermione said. "Legitimacy. Right now, people are following you because in a real sense it's your ship. Once they're on board, though, and the immediate risk is over, they may start pushing. Having this legitimizes you as the legal government and authority. Sign it, Harry."

"You were the one worried about this, weren't you?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Andromeda spoke about your decisions, and what right you had to make them. This answers that concern."

"Alright," Harry said simply, before turning and signing his name to all four copies of the treaty. Madame Themis witnessed his signature, while Dr. Kapernicki witnessed Secretary Courtier's signature on all four copies. By signing, and with the Solicitor General's blessing, Harry became at 30 years of age the youngest Minister for Magic England had ever seen.

After a hearty lunch and another round of Cognac, the group left the Conference room and made their official announcement regarding the formation of NAMPO, and Harry's selection by the three other member states as Admiral of the "expedition" and Plenipotentiary for those who accompanied him.

Madame Themis made a few statements regarding Harry's capacity as Minister for Magic, and finally Harry made a short, impromptu speech, much as he had to do occasionally as DMLE director. When it was finally done, the reporters were again herded away by Courtier's people.

"We didn't want to take any unnecessary risks in case the test flight failed," Courtier explained as they watched the reporters escorted out of the hangar.

"I understand completely," Harry said, remembering how much energy even the scale model released.

The VIPs were shepherded to an enclosed office on the far side of the huge shipyard where they could watch everything from behind the safety of heavily charmed, reinforced fiberglass. The volunteer flight crew for the _Enterprise_ consisted of ten witches and wizards of ages ranging from thirty to eighty who entered the ship amid a flurry of cameras, press and well-wishes on the floor of the massive enclosed hangar. All wore light blue flight suites with the Department of Magic badge—the American eagle clutching a wand and a staff over the U.S. flag.

Overhead, the air-pressurized dome began to roll open, releasing painfully bright sunlight inside. When the dome was fully opened, the _Enterprise_ floated free of its gantry, held aloft solely by the gravity-warping effects of the charged lodestones.

"That is an incredible sight," Courtier said aloud.

"It really is," Harry agreed. "It's not just magic holding it up—but magical science."

"Yeah," Hermione whispered, pupils dilated as much by the idea behind the floating ship as the ship itself. Harry suspected it was going to be a good night for him, and he absently wondered if they had any honey in the house.

Slowly, majestically, the _Enterprise_ rose further from its cradle. Doing so, they could see the many rail gun placements over the rectangular fuselage, including one especially large one embedded in its hull facing forward underneath the highest portion of the dome.

It hovered over the other two ships without adversely affecting them, and then shimmered into a cloud of distorted air as the crew activated its _disillusionment_ charms. The cloud of distorted air rose silently into the atmosphere and out of the dome, which immediately began to close again.

"It is supposed to fly around the solar system for two days before coming back," Kapernicki said. "That should give it a pretty thorough shakedown. We'll make sure to send you recordings from the flight deck, as well as the mirror emplacements in the ship."


	10. What Price, Victory

A/N: Chap 9 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Ten: What Price, Victory?**

October 10th, 2010

Daniel Webber opened the weekly department head meeting.

"Bad news from the Americans," he said grimly. Without further explanation, he turned on the room's computer monitor and began to play a disc that was obviously already in the machine.

Harry saw immediately that the video was captured from a magical mirror just from the second hand quality of the video feed. It revealed the flight deck of what Harry assumed was the _Enterprise_ , given the light blue uniforms and badges. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he could see a central mirror relay that gave them a spectacular view of the curvature of the Earth below. The ship was already in orbit.

The captain raised his hand and must have given a short speech from the way the other crewmembers looked at him. He then dropped his hand and the crew began frantically working. And then…

Everything turned into a red mist. The mirror taking the images cracked and all the furniture simply puffed into dust.

"What…what happened?" Hermione asked, aghast. It was the first she'd seen it.

"I got this today by portkey, with notes," Daniel said grimly. "The Americans made a conversion mistake from metric to standard. The internal lodestone's field was misaligned, and so didn't cover the bridge properly. The ship accelerated to seventy times the speed of light, while those within it did not. They were killed instantly. The ship's been lost—they think it's on its way to Alpha Centauri at the moment."

"Could that happen to us?" Harry asked, sickened at the thought.

Daniel turned off the footage and sank tiredly into his chair. "I've been going over the math all morning. I've been running simulations on the computers I brought with me. Everything we have says it shouldn't happen, but I think based on this we need to put a failsafe in. If the lodestones are not aligned properly, then we just won't be able to go."

"I agree," Harry said without hesitation. "Do it. And have your staff begin thinking about any other failsafes that we might need. And about those guns…"

"We can only use two, they're so big," he said. "But yeah, we can carve out some room in the central hull, fore and aft. Even with space expansion charms we're going to lose a lot of real estate in the central hull."

Harry shrugged. "Better to share a bunk and have a big gun than have our own rooms and be caught defenseless when ET comes to give us anal probes. Just call me paranoid."

"Constant vigilance," Hermione said with a sad smile.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Harry and Hermione rarely fought. Mainly because they each had an understanding that whoever cared the most about something got their way. For the most part, the system worked well for them. Unfortunately, Harry cared a great deal about the _Invincible,_ and Hermione cared a great deal about Harry, and when it came time for the _Invincible_ 's preliminary flight, the two perspectives clashed badly.

While it took closer to three weeks than the two Hermione predicted in their meeting with the Americans, Harry was able to do the expansion charm on the second dome on October 23rd. Hermione, Daniel and their entire team spent the next six days charging, aligning and calibrating the four lorry-sized lodestones that would serve as the beating heart of the ship.

And every night, during those long six days, Harry and Hermione argued about who was taking the ship on its test flight.

The argument finally came down to Hermione screaming, "You're the bloody Minister for Magic, you tosspot! The head of state does not get to test experimental space ships!"

And so it was a heavily scowling Harry Potter who stood beside his wife on the twenty-ninth anniversary of his parent's death watching someone else fly his ship for the first time.

Granted, he trusted Daniel Webber's crew entirely. None of the test flight crew were from his old circle of friends—it was too important and the work too technical to entrust with people who were not the best at what they did. So, while the twenty crew members were not people Harry grew up with, over the past year he'd come to know and respect them all not only for their competence, but also for the courage they displayed.

"Retracting the dome," Padma announced from her station in the control room. Overhead, the large, lead-lined dome rolled back from the lake-side of the docking structure, flooding the interior space not just with fresh air, but also with radiation. As 2011 loomed, the radiation continued to climb. The potions were barely keeping the vulnerable alive at all.

Fortunately, they'd already evacuated the drydock just in case there was a catastrophe.

The 700 foot long, two hundred foot tall ship shimmered as they activated its' _disillusionment_ charm. In its' place was a large cloud of distorted air—visible only if one know what to look for. Harry watched as it rose into the air.

The captain, Dinah Patterson, tapped a communications mirror. "Control, this is _Invincible,_ do you read?"

"Loud and clear, _Invincible_ ," Padma said.

"All boards are green. We are accelerating to high orbit. All stations report acceptable gravity."

Harry rocked on his feet and hugged his arms across his chest, worried sick and, if he was honest with himself, still furious with his wife for fighting him so hard. She stood beside him, fully aware of his anger but not giving an inch on it.

"We are now in orbit," Patterson reported mere minutes later. "Crenshaw and White are in each dome and report they are walking without difficulty. Gravity is holding at 97 percent G. We have reached low orbit. All boards still report green. Control, are we clear to begin acceleration?"

"You are clear," Padma said. Harry admired how she managed to keep her voice level.

"Beginning warp acceleration at point oh-three percent."

The large mirror they had against the wall showed the interior of the cockpit as if they were there. And so Harry could see like the rest the image of the earth below suddenly begin to recede. "We are increasing acceleration incrementally. Now at point oh-five percent and holding," Patterson said. "Crenshaw and White are both reporting no noticeable change in their gravity fields."

The view showed a field of stars take on a slight red tint. "We are now at three percent and increasing. All boards remain green. The computer estimates we are approaching relativistic speed. Time is 2:00 p.m. Greenwhich time. Confirm any time dilation?"

"Time here is 2:00 p.m. Greenwhich time," Padma said. "Shipboard clock shows a lag of ten milliseconds."

The ship shuttered visibly. "First turbulence," Patterson said. "Crenshaw and White both felt it, but effect was minimal. We have now exceeded the speed of light at fifteen percent acceleration. Moving to twenty percent acceleration."

So it went for fifteen minutes. They called it after the ship reached thirty percent acceleration after it left the known solar system. In the utter black beyond the outer spheres, the _Invincible_ came to a halt.

"Control, shipboard time is 2:14."

" _Invincible,_ Control time shows 2:15," Padma reported. "Mirrors are still working perfectly. Can you get a position?"

"Estimate we are at one hundred thirty AU from the sun," Patterson reported.

"They just travelled almost nineteen and a half billion miles in minutes," Hermione whispered, jubilant.

"They were only thirty percent for a minute," Harry pointed out.

" _Invincible,_ what is ship status?"

"Control, we're doing our analysis right now and will get back shortly."

Padma nodded and leaned back. "You know what's really amazing?" she said aloud to everyone else in the room. "This proves that magic is _not_ a form of electromagnetic energy."

"That's right," Hermione said. "No time delay on the mirrors—the magic must be operating at the quantum level. Magic is astounding, isn't it?"

They waited nervously for another half hour while the test flight crew of the _Invincible_ put the ship through its paces. Finally, though, the mirror lit back up to show Patterson herself facing them.

"Control, _Invincible_. We have performed an extensive survey of the ship and determined that all systems are functioning normally. We have determined that there are four points of accelerated gravity in the very edges of the domes where they meet the fuselage. We have marked these areas as unsafe during any acceleration maneuver. Please also send our compliments to Cassandra Appolline and Aurora Sinestra. Their stellar cartography program appears to be functioning admirably well."

The two women in question—a confirmed, internationally renowned seer and a career astrologer—both blushed and waved at the low applause from the rest of those in the control room from her corner at the back.

"That's good news, _Invincible_ ," Padma said. "You'd better head back. The Admiral is looking very jealous."

Patterson laughed. "It must be terrible to know someone else, somewhere, actually went faster than him. I saw a recording of that charity game he played a few years ago. We are plotting a return course."

The flight back went as smoothly as the flight out. "Oh my God, Harry, we did it," Hermione whispered. "We did it!"

She was so excited, Harry forgot how mad he was at her.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Three weeks later, as a bitterly cold rain laced with ice fell over London, Harry Potter, Dennis Creevey and a dozen other of his best aurors shot out of the floo of the Leakey Cauldron. Harry was pleased that he had overcome the awkwardness of his youth when it came to the Floo. He emerged at a crouch, wand ready and quickly moved away from the fireplace to cover the arrival of his fellows from any enemy fire.

He needn't have bothered. Not only was the Leaky Cauldron unoccupied, the dining room was actually empty. There were no signs of tables, chairs, portraits or stools at the bar. Harry stepped to the door and gave it a tug, but it was magically locked. He ignored the silhouettes of Muggles walking by the inn outside.

"Katie, take a partner and check out the other floors," Harry ordered the auror.

Bell grabbed a tall, thin Indian auror by the name of Chandra and the two left to explore the rest of the inn. They emerged a few minutes later looking grim. "Found five bodies," she reported. "Lying in bed, a week old or more. Nothing alive, not even the elves."

"Elves in unshielded areas are all dead now," Harry said as he took a dose of the radiation potion. They had to take the potion almost every hour while working outside now. "Let's go see the rest of it."

The alley beyond was utterly deserted, many of the shops boarded up. Harry and his aurors began casting detection charms, looking for any sign of life. "Two bodies in Amanuensis," Davin said grimly.

"One in Flourish and Blotts," Smithe called. So they went, store by store. Most of the stores were emptied not just of people, but of merchandise as well. Those few that still had items were the buildings that also had bodies. _Broomstix_ remained fully stocked, and without hesitation Harry motioned for Davin's people to clean the stock out, using mokeskin bags all the aurors carried now to hold the sixty eight brooms the place had.

"Bell, go clean out Second Hand Brooms too, if they have anything," Proudfoot instructed.

She turned with Chandra to do just that. Minutes after she left, Filburn called out: "I have a live one!"

Harry followed her wand and blinked, shocked to see she was pointing at Ollivanders. He led the way into the store, and to his utter astonishment found Ollivander himself sitting behind the counter sipping tea.

"Harry Potter!" he said in a tremulous voice. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Likewise," Harry said gently. "Gerrick…Mr. Ollivander, what are you doing here?"

"Why, dying of course!" Ollivander said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Everyone else is already dead, or gone to their fates in the goblin caverns, the fools. Ten as one the goblins will eat the poor souls. I'm it for Diagon Alley, I'm afraid."

"They've already gone into the bank?" Harry asked.

"Had no choice, what with everyone falling dead where they stood."

"What about you?"

He held up what Harry thought was tea, and a whiff of it confirmed it was the American radiation potion. "Smart," he said.

"Persistent," Ollivander countered. "But it's not enough anymore, I'm afraid. I can feel myself burning up inside. A day, hours? Who can say?"

"Come with us, you old fool," Proudfoot said. "The potion works perfectly well if you get away from the radiation!"

"Davin Proudfoot, I'll have you know that I will never leave my shop!" Ollivander snapped. "I was born here, and I will die here."

"But all these wands," Harry whispered.

"Are yours," Ollivander said. He tapped his own wand to something under his desk, and Harry watched as every wand box in the stood suddenly flew off its shelf and into whatever he held out of sight. What amazed Harry, though, were how very many wands there were. It wasn't a matter of hundreds, but of thousands—tens of thousands.

"My family has been on this spot, making wands, since Hadrian's time," Ollivander said with that same, slightly irritated tone. "And we have bought back many old family wands as well. Our stock spans the centuries." When the last wand finally flew to its resting place, he levitated up black leather satchel. "This is my legacy, Mr. Potter. As I once told you, you have done great things. Let this be one of those great things—save my wands so that your children's wands may someday choose them."

Harry took the satchel speechlessly.

"Very good," Ollivander said with a nod. And then, as Harry watched, his cheeks flared bright red and he simply fell off the stool onto the floor, dead before he hit the ground.

"He must have been waiting for you," Proudfoot said, stunned by the strange exchange. "Mum always said he a touch of the sight."

Just then Katie returned. "Got some more brooms and potions supplies. There isn't a soul left alive in the alley."

"No, not anymore," Harry said sadly with a look at the old wizard who, as much as Dumbledore, set him on his path. "It's time to close it down, my friends. Let's go."

"What about Ollivander?" Katie asked.

"Leave him here," Proudfoot said. "He would want his final rest nowhere else."

The four of them left the now emptied wand shop and made their way up the empty alley. As they approached Gringott's Bank, which had been the center of the alley for centuries, Harry was surprised to see the gold-lined doors open.

"Wands up," Harry snapped, momentarily forgetting he wasn't in charge of the aurors anymore. Fortunately, Proudfoot forgave him.

A single goblin left the building, but he was unlike any goblin Harry had ever seen. For one, the creature was naked except for a white loincloth. His skin was a pasty, sickly white color brisling with hair and bulges in odd places, like his kneecaps, elbows and feet. He carried a spear in one hand and a black bag in another as he approached the party of aurors.

"Harry Potter!" the goblin called. "We have been waiting for you."

"That's not good," Davin muttered. He began motioning the aurors to form a hemisphere behind and around Harry to ensure everyone had a clear line of fire.

Harry, though, simply stood and watched as the short but powerful creature walked toward him. "What do you want?"

"Victory!" the Goblin shouted. His tinny voice echoed sharply in the otherwise abandoned street. "For centuries, you wizards have ground us beneath your boot heel, as if we were less than you. Before your kind learned apparation, our warriors made your kind tremble in fear! We were mighty!"

"Wonder where this is going?" Katie whispered.

Harry stepped forward, wand in hand. "Perhaps you were, goblin. What is it you want now?"

"To make sure you, and the rest of your kind, know the truth. That in these last hours, we had victory." The goblin suddenly swung the bag up and around his shoulder to send it flying through the air until it landed with a dull thud at Harry's feet. He made no effort to open it.

"A gift to you, Harry Potter. From the goblins of Gringotts. Know that with this last gift, we have achieved what is ours."

The goblin turned and walked back to the bank but only made it five steps before he stumbled and fell to the cobblestone streets. He did not even bounce or move as he fell. Smithe rushed forward and cast a diagnostic spell. "Radiation poisoning," he called back.

A sharp crack of breaking stone reverberated through the ally, echoing off the buildings. Harry crouched, as did the aurors behind them, as a corner of the Gringott's building broke and fell in a shower of plaster to the cobbled stones of the road. The crash of it reverberated through the alleyway. Almost immediately, one of the tall columns on the building-word portico fell over with an equally loud crash.

"Boss, what the hell is happening?"

Harry turned to answer before realizing the young auror was talking to Davin. The loud cracking of more stone made him return his attention to Gringotts as the façade of the bank suddenly shattered outward in a shower of stone and dust. Harry cast a shield charm just to be safe, and through the shimmering magic, he watched as the bank seemed to collapse in on itself, crumbling in a billow of masonry dust, until it simply fell away into the ground.

With a flick of his wrist Harry cancelled his shield charm and instead began vanishing the dust clouds until he could see. And what he saw left him speechless.

Headless bodies lay piled haphazardly on mounds of gold that rose up to the sky. Most of the bodies were clearly wizards and witches, easily discerned from the fact that they were stripped bare. However, amidst the bodies Harry saw goblins bodies as well. They were covered in blood, but Harry knew the blood was that of the wizards on which the creatures had taken their last feast.

"I don't understand," Bell whispered in a quavering voice.

Harry, though, having dealt with Goblins on a personal basis, understood perfectly well. "There was no goblin prophecy. There were no safe shelters in their caves. They were dying as fast as we were."

"But…but…"

"They wanted to take as many of us with them as they could," Davin finished. "Out of sheer, magic-cursed spite. Their last act of bloody rebellion."

Harry looked back at the black bag, and realized what was in it. Instead of opening it, he levitated it back to the piles of gold and dead. "Victory," he said grimly. "I wonder if they thought it worth it."

"What do we do, Harry?" Davin asked.

"We finish what we came for," Harry said.

He led them around the piles of gold and death, which rose three or four stories high, until they reached a small, mostly overlooked garden behind where the bank used to be. From its midst, surrounded by lilies, Harry found a large black stone welling up out of the ground very similar to what he found at Hogwarts.

"Do you…can you do it?" Proudfood asked.

"Kingsley shared the spell with me when I took the DMLE directorship," Harry said. He stepped to the rock, cut his hand, and placed the bloodied palm on the cold, black stone surface. "I am Harry Potter, Minister for Magic. _Ego autem si veritatum dico._ "

He felt an ancient presence touch not just his mind, but his magic. It did not have the warmth and joy of Hogwarts, but rather was doleful and heavy with the memories of centuries of loss and pain. But regardless, he felt its acceptance of him. With a last look at the three others, he placed the Elder wand against the stone. " _Omnia finis._ "

The stone flared suddenly, pushing Harry back. The flare of white light flashed again, and again, and Harry realized it was counting down. "Apparate to the sidewalk across from the Cauldron, right now!"

A dozen pops later, and they stood on a sidewalk, safely shrouded in notice-me-not charms, as the magical world in London died a final death. They watched in utter silence as the space expansion charms that created Diagon Alley, and carved it out of Hadrian's Londinum before the modern city ever existed, collapsed. It felt wrong, somehow, that no one else could see the magical world in London ending, but it was what it was. Only magical eyes could watch as store after store simply ceased to exist as the space those shops occupied ceased to be. Muggles looked in confusion at the sudden rush of air and heat that blasted at them from between the laundromat and bookstore from what they all thought was a car park. It was, Harry decided, a fitting end to the victims of the goblin's last rebellion, and to the creatures themselves.

With a final sigh of magic, Diagon Alley ceased to be.

"What about the Ministry, sir?" Smithe asked.

"Leave it," Harry said. "I have one more meeting, but I'll hand it alone. The rest of you, head home. We're done here."

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

Harry arrived a minute later into a room that appeared nondescript, with gray walls and no furnishings. A single, one-way mirror dominated the nearest wall. Harry turned to the mirror. "Harry Potter, acting Minister for Magic to see the Home Secretary."

He waited a moment before the door opened and a plain-clothed security agent stepped in. "Minister Potter, we have a guest badge prepared." The man did not comment on the heavy black robe Harry wore, though he knew he must have looked ridiculous to the man.

The agent handed him the badge, which he attached by a simple sticking charm. He then led Harry into a long, empty hallway lined in closed doors. Harry had no doubt the hallway had been emptied just for his visit. They reached the end and were let into a spacious office with a glass wall looking out onto the Thames. Home Secretary Charles Blankett sat behind a spacious desk that dominated the office.

With him, Harry saw the Prime Minister himself.

The two most powerful men in the Muggle government each stood to meet their guest. Blankett was a heavy-bodied man with a thick head of pepper-gray hair. He filled out every inch of his immaculate Saville row suit, and in fact pushed a few of the buttons on his shirt beyond their intended diameter.

Prime Minister Hatchford was the opposite—a man only an inch or so taller than Harry, Hatchford had a thin and delicate build, with a gracefully receding hairline but a rather hawkish nose and piercing brown eyes.

"The inestimable Harry Potter," Hatchford said. "When I heard your request for this meeting, I just knew I had to be here."

Harry took the politician's hand. "It is an honor to meet you, Minister. Secretary Blankett, a pleasure to see you again."

"I'm surprised you came alone," Hatchford noted.

Harry smiled flatly. "There was no need to continue to expose my people to the radiation."

"Please, have a seat," Blankett said. "Anything to drink? Tea? Scotch?"

"I'll have to pass, thank you," Harry said. "We've discovered that alcohol has a delimiting effect on some of our treatments."

"May I ask, Mr. Potter, why the particularly…grim accoutrements?" the Prime Minister said.

"It's a demron fabric that helps block radiation, Minister," Harry explained. "The saturation point is approaching lethal doses for magical kind worldwide."

The Prime Minister's slightly mocking smile grew sober. "Yes, I've read your kind are beginning to die out quite quickly. Forty three bodies were found in London just this last week."

"That's partly why I asked for this meeting, gentlemen," Harry said. "The magical conflict that your people were suffering from is over. I've closed Diagon Alley down, and the Ministry is being abandoned. I've recalled all my aurors because you won't need them anymore."

"The criminals gave up, then?" Hatchford asked.

"The criminals died, sir. Men, women and children, all dead. The only survivors are those with me."

"Yes, shame, that," Hatchford said. It was the most blatant expression of glee Harry had ever heard from an elected official. "It's terrible for the world to see such productive members of its population fade away."

"Yes, well, in a year the rest of the world's population will follow in our footsteps, Minister," Harry said with a grim smile. "So perhaps you should view this as a prelude of what's to come."

Blankett cleared his threat. "Well said, Minister Potter, well said."

"Or is it admiral?" Hatchford asked, still in a slightly mocking tone. "I signed off on your NAMPO treaty, but really, why bother? I heard your kind in America lost their ship anyway."

 _Was this man for real?_ Harry studied the Prime Minister intently—Kingsley did not speak of him often, and he was not in office during the last war. In fact, if Harry remembered…

"You were Home Secretary in the '90s, weren't you?" he asked then.

"Why yes, I was. It was interesting how many houses we came across with tortured, mutilated bodies. Whole villages, in fact."

"I remember," Harry said. "I had to listen while they tortured my wife for hours on end. In fact, I even died briefly at Voldemort's own hand. Fortunately, Death and I have an understanding, and I came back to finish the job. But in the fight that ensued, my godson's parents were killed, as were many of my friends. Before you judge us for the evil our kind did, you should remember who it was that stopped that evil. After all, you Muggles have more of our blood on your hands than we have of yours."

Hatchford sat forward, face flushed. "How dare you!"

"I'm not the one taking joy in the deaths of innocent women and children, Minister," Harry said. "I can't defend every evil witches and wizards have done, any more than I would ask you to defend Hitler, the Crusades or the Inquisition. But I would at least hope you had sufficient humanity to mourn the dead. It is unfortunate I was foolish in that hope.

Harry stood and nodded to Blanket. "Charlie, Kingsley spoke very highly of you and your staff. I'm sorry we didn't have more time to work together. Good luck for you and your family—I hope they save a place for you."

Hatchford blushed red at the obvious dismissal.

Risking his own career, Blankett returned the nod. "The Home Office has appreciated your cooperation and assistance. I'm very sorry for all your losses. Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"Just continue to bury our dead," Harry said somberly. "Charlie, it has been a pleasure and honor to get to know you. I'm sad I won't see you again."

He took the much larger man's hand in his and shook it firmly.

"Likewise, Harry Potter. May God go with you and yours."

Utterly ignoring the angry Prime Minister, Harry spun in place and disapparated directly from the building.


	11. The Book Thief

A/N: Chap 10 review responses are in my forums. I note that in response to some of the comments, I talked about events that I hadn't posted yet. So...yeah. That happened. And now...the last chapter on Earth.

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: The Book Thief**

December 21st, 2010

Dame Jennifer Arlene Lindley, DBE, FRSA, stared down at the royal seal with an uncharacteristic tremor in her hands. The order from Her Majesty the Queen was countersigned by the PM and the Home Secretary. It was not a joke, and the sheer enormity of it momentarily overwhelmed the life-long bibliophile and Chief Executive of the British Library.

She had just over 18 months to digitize the entire British Library before the world ended.

It was not possible.

"I was wondering when they would send those orders."

Dame Lindley jumped in her seat, dropping the notice in fright. Sitting directly in front of her desk was possibly the strangest sight she'd ever seen in her life. A person sat in one of her visitor's chairs cloaked in thick, voluminous black robes with an odd, almost medieval hat, all in a thick, near metallic fabric. Her features were obscured by a thick white cream that covered her face and hands.

But what shocked her was that her office door had been locked, and by all appearances still remained so. "How did you get in here?" she demanded.

"Magic," the creature said in a patently feminine voice. "I see you've received notice that the world is ending. Nice that they only gave you eighteen months warning, although to be honest we think that timeframe is overly optimistic. We believe the end will begin in April of 2012."

"Who are you?" Lindley demanded. "And why are you dressed like…like a stage character?"

If the woman smiled, Lindley could not tell through the make-up. "My name is Hermione Potter. I hold a doctorate of Physics from Oxford. I understand you studied there yourself. I also hold masteries in the magical art of transfiguration and technomagery. I am a witch, Dame Lindley. I wield a wand, and can use magic to alter the world around me. And I am wearing a cloak of demron and a lead-based body paint to help shield me from the radiation that is microwaving the earth's crust. Lead does not affect me as it would you, while the radiation that is causing the coming apocalypse would most definitely affect me."

"Ms. Potter, I don't know what you hope to accomplish, but…"

She paused when Hermione reached into the folds of her robe with a white-painted hand, and from it drew an ancient scroll of vellum. "Feel free to open it," the strange woman said.

Frowning, Dame Lindley pulled the rollers apart to reveal the titled page in a tiny, minute hand. The page was littered with diagrams and detailed mathematical equations of spheres and circles. Her Greek was excellent, of course, and she recognized Koine Greek script. The title however, made her hands shake. " _The Placement of The Sun And Stars…_ as taught by Aristarchus of Samos. This…this has to be a fraud. Where did you get this?"

"The Library of Alexandria, of course," the woman said. "While not all works survived, our kind shielded the true library from the Christians who so feared knowledge at the time that they would destroy it. It remained until two months ago, with the collected works of the Western Hemisphere from the first writings of the Macedonians to a treatise on Islam and Magic in the 20th Century."

"What happened two months ago?"

"I stole it," she said, with a smile. "Well, not me personally. The head librarian and his staff helped my colleagues a great deal."

"Why…what…?"

The young woman produced a stylized stick, and with a flourish the scroll disappeared with a pop right out from Dame Lindley's hands. In its place, she found a card with a familiar name on it. "What is this?"

"The direct, personal line for Mr. Charles Blankett, Home Secretary. I believe the number is also on the orders you just received. I would like you to call him with your phone on speaker, please."

Lindley dialed the number with shaking hands. "Home Office," a male voice said. "Who's calling?"

"This is…this is Dame Lindley, Chief Executive of the National Library. I'm here with a woman claiming to be Hermione Potter and she…"

"Hold for the Home Secretary, please," the voice said quickly.

"My husband has worked with him in the past," Hermione said with a conspiratorial wink.

"This is Charlie Blankett," a deep voice said over the speaker. "Dame Lindley, I presume?"

"Yes. I am here with a Hermione Potter who claims to be a witch."

"Indeed. Doctor Potter, how is Minister Potter?"

"Busy, Secretary Blankett. He had a spell of radiation poisoning last week, but we've kept him under house arrest until we could flush some of it from his system. Otherwise I'm sure he'd be here instead of me."

"Well, I hope he has a speedy recovery. Dame Lindley, the woman sitting across from you is telling you the truth. She is the wife of a Crown-appointed MP for a segment of our population which has heretofore remained hidden. I shall let her explain more, but the Home Office and New Scotland Yard will both vouch for her credentials. Do you have any questions for me?"

"I…I suppose not," Lindley said weakly. "Thank you for your time, sir."

"My pleasure, Dame Lindley. Doctor Potter, please give Harry my regards."

"I most certainly will, Charlie. Thank you for your time."

The line clicked. Lindley looked back up at the oddly clothed figure. "I am part of a preservation project totally apart from that of your government. And to ensure one of the greatest libraries in the world is not lost, I want to copy it. All of it. But I will need your help."

"But…but…we have over a hundred and fifty million items! How can you just…"

"With magic, Dame Lindley, almost anything is possible."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Hogwarts valley looked like a ghost town.

The hastily assembled dorms and apartment building were empty, with more than a few disassembled for supplies. The vast animal pens and green houses were empty, and not a soul remained to be seen.

Harry Potter walked alone through the valley, draped in heavy, multiple layers of demron. A thick, white, lead-based cream covered his face and hands as he moved, and itched like the dickens. The lead caused rashes on most of them, but didn't penetrate deep enough to cause poisoning thanks to their magic.

The air around him shimmered as if he were walking in heat, despite the thick layer of snow. What he was seeing was the radiation visibly eliminating the ambient magic of Hogwarts. Before his eyes, Hogwarts was dying.

None of them could have guessed just how time-consuming loading the _Invincible_ would become. First was the chore of pumping concentrated salt water directly from the lake into the narrow space between the outer and inner hulls of the habitat domes, as Hermione called them. Then came the even more daunting task of setting up magical filters to desalinate the water to be pumped into the domes directly. It was a startling sight—what water was pumped into the lower dome fell down, but water pumped to the upper dome fell upward, each caught within the magical gravity fields of the internal lodestones.

Water, however, was the easiest part. What was hard was moving hundreds of thousands of metric tons of soil into the ship. The idea was to create a whole, self-enclosed habitat, which meant soil and vegetation and even small animals. That meant first having the medical staff make sure the soil wasn't retaining the radiation, and then moving it.

They bought Muggle landmovers—a large dumping trolly and a steam shovel, and placed the soil in huge wooden crates charmed with two-way portkeys. At the height of the operation, they had six shovels and trolleys moving at once, with ten soil containers popping into the two domes. They removed much of Ravenclaw's Hill on the far side of the school, and eventually just took to razing every bit of exposed soil they could. After all, each habitat dome was over sixteen kilometers long and two kilometers wide.

Because of the natural curvature of the gravity field, the surface within the dome felt perfectly flat to those in it despite the visible slope that ran down to the reservoir at the domed point. And so there was little risk of losing soil in run off because of gravity alone. But the task of moving over seventy-six square kilometers of soil into the two domes was daunting at best.

The task was made especially dangerous because the radiation reached critical levels during the holidays. Despite their best efforts, they were losing people almost daily, mostly the oldest first. Madame Maxime collapsed while helping transfer the Beauxbaton's library to the ship. Franklin-Claggett of Salem's died a week later helping to round up a pair of stray unicorns that were themselves on the verge of death. Soon, almost all the elder staff of the schools, even Flitwick and Sprout, succumbed.

Only essential personnel were allowed to leave the designated shelters, all of which were lined with lead or demron. The radiation potion was consumed almost hourly by everyone, in or out of the shelter.

Still the loading continued.

They had all the elves move to the ship before the New Year when, even inside the castle, they began to sicken and die. Even more than witches and wizards, elves were vulnerable. However, having the surviving Hogwarts elves (along with the handful of family elves that came) in the ship did help a great deal.

So the loading went, rotating shifts so that no one person was out of the shelter for more than two hours every three days prolonged the work, but also reduced the number of fatalities. Even Harry himself had to take a break, since in mid-December he started feeling hot and faint from the radiation poisoning himself.

Hermione sat by his bed in the docking bay infirmary and force-fed him potions for a solid week before he could even get up—when she wasn't robbing libraries, that is.

Through all of November and December, battling cold rain, snow and lethal radiation, they continued to load the ship as fast as they could. And the whole time, Padma Patil's Environmental Services department began to assign quarters for the ship's crew. Those who were going to be running the ship directly were to be housed in the fuselage—all that remained of the original air crafter carrier Harry bought in 2009.

The rest would be in shelters within the habitat domes themselves.

So it went, until the nineteenth of January, 2011. That morning, Padma's team shipped in the last crate of earth. Charlie Weasley's team captured the last pair of hippogriffs they could find alive and, like all the other large creatures, had them dosed on the Drought of Living Death, shrunken and stored in a special storage chamber within the fuselage of the ship itself that would ensure the creatures all had sufficient air. The potion itself could keep them alive for centuries if necessary.

The last witches and wizards travelled through an underground tunnel from the dormitories to the ship, and now the grounds were completely empty. It wasn't even safe to apparate anymore. The last wizard who apparated from the ward line to Hogsmead for a family heirloom splinched his arm off and bled to death before anyone could reach him.

So Harry trudged through the snow as the air sparkled ominously around him toward the castle that was the first place he had ever felt at home. The gates stood open as he walked through the old courtyard. Of course, it had been rebuilt after the battle with the Death Eaters years ago, and the statue Harry grew up with was replaced with a statue of he, Hermione and Ron standing back to back fighting. He found it gauche, but Ron adored it. Harry smiled at the memory of Ron bringing his and Lavender's baby to see the statue.

Inside, those portraits they could not find a place for on the ship had bled from their frames. The paint itself was magical, and with the radiation the magic had died, leaving the colors to run together and drip in a brown goo to the floor. The many charmed suits of armor had collapsed, those that they did not salvage for the metal. Even the Room of Lost Things had been scrounged for useful items.

As much as he wanted to go up to the old dormitory and visit the kitchens, he couldn't afford to dawdle. So he walked quickly down through the dungeons, through a long narrow hall, and finally to the room that housed Hogwarts' faltering heart.

This close he could feel the stone straining against the poison that was steadily killing magic itself. It felt to Harry as if Hogwarts itself was in terrible pain, so much so tears came to his eyes. He knelt down beside the stone and placed his palm against it—having keyed it to his magic, he no longer needed blood.

The magic surged against his, almost like a faithful old dog leaning against the hand of its owner. The pain of the castle proved too much, and Harry felt his eyes watering. "Old friend," Harry whispered. "It's time to sleep now. Thank you. Thank you so much for the home you've provided. For the magic and the wonder."

The magic surged against him, and somehow Harry knew that Hogwarts understood. And with that, Harry whispered, "Sleep now."

It was not a spell, or even a command. It was an intent and a hope that the castle understood. The magic surged one last time, as if to hug him good bye, and then began to fade. Immediately, a wall near Harry popped and a crack ran up from the floor to the ceiling.

This time, he did not walk. Harry stood and ran as fast as he could, taking every shortcut he could. Around him, the stone walls cracked with sharp, percussive snaps like artillery going off around him, and still he ran through the halls until he reached the courtyard.

The statue fell over and shattered into powder; Harry jumped over it until he reached the snow. He reached for his wand and cast a feather weight charm on himself and then ran over the snow until the radiation burned the charm away. However, it got him far enough away so that when the Gryffindor tower collapsed, he was clear. He turned a few hundred feet from the dry dock and watched, mouth agape, as the most wondrous, haunted, beautiful castle in the world collapsed in on itself. Without magic, its ancient architecture failed immediately, until all that remained were piles of shattered stone.

He picked up his demron hat and slipped it on while dusting snow off. "Good bye," he whispered. Around him, the sparkles stopped as the last magic of the valley died. He turned and walked back toward the dry dock just in time to see a large, grey-hulled ship sailing into the Dark Lake from the tributary that ran from the Northern Atlantic.

It was a large ship, painted Navy gray, with two smoke stacks side by side toward the aft, and two gantry cranes amid-ships, toward the bow. New additions appeared to be tarps draped all over it—heavy, lead-colored tarps.

Harry dug in his robes until he found the radio there. With the radiation interfering with their auror badges and _Patronus_ charms, they'd had to improvise. And with the magic of the valley all but gone, radios worked fine. "Hermione, the Canadians are coming."

"Oh no, whatever will we do?" came the dry, humorous response.

Harry dosed himself with the radiation potion again and walked toward the dry dock.

When they originally built it, they conjured and built a cement barrier, cut off a large portion of the lake and drained it. They finished off the interior and deepened it by vanishing the bedrock as deep as they needed. But because of that, the main land-side entrance to the dry-dock of the _Invincible_ was only a dozen or so feet from the old wooden quay that sixteen years before had seen the arrival of the _Durmstrang_ school ship.

Now it saw the 172 meter behemoth that was Her Majesty's Canadian Ship _Preserver_. Harry walked down to the quay as the ship slowed. Harry knew the craft was only able to get as close to the quay as it did was because of how deep the lake ran—it was the same for the original incarnation of the _Invincible_ itself. Realizing however that without tugboats it could not get any closer, Harry decided to lend a helping hand. He burnished the Elder wand and with a surge of magic that again made the air sparkle, Harry summoned the ship just as the students of Hogwarts and her sister schools summoned the _Invincible_.

The ship began to move sideways, rocking from the waves of the lake, until it came within a few feet of the quay. It dropped anchors immediately, just a foot from the bedrock shelf the quay itself rested on.

Harry made his way down onto the wooden structure as the huge ship lowered a sizable ramp. A thick bodied man in black slacks and a heavy jacket walked down the ramp with a beret cocked on the side of his head. "Admiral Potter?" he called.

"That's me," Harry said. "Commander Courtemanche?"

"Indeed," he said. The shook hands and the commander took no notice of the lead greasepaint on his black gloves. It was frankly a miracle the Canadian supply ship was able to break through the ice of the lake. "That was quite a show you put on there, Mr. Potter. If it weren't for watching our passengers break the ice for our trip up the river, I wouldn't have believed it possible."

 _Well, that answered that._ "It's soon to be a thing of the past, Commander," Harry admitted. "Which is why we are so grateful for the Canadian government volunteering to make this trip."

Courtemanche turned to look at the many hundreds of people who now lined the edge of the ship, looking on with expressions Harry remembered seeing on himself and his friends after the war. These people had suffered.

"You're saving Canadian lives, Admiral Potter," he said softly. "Whether they use wands or not, they are the people I've sworn to protect. I'm still frankly amazed at the number we managed to fit on our ship. It's hard to believe, but those tents of yours were housing dozens of people over the ocean. We have over fifty-two hundred men, women and children. Will you have room for them?"

"Believe it or not, Commander, we managed to squeeze thirty-two square kilometers into a seven-hundred by two-hundred foot dome. We have plenty of room."

"Astounding. But…we saw the dust cloud. What happened there?"

He pointed to the remnants of Hogwarts.

"That, Commander, was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a thousand year old institution of living magic, until today."

The kindly commander nodded, sobering at the grief he heard. "It is a hard day, Admiral Potter, of that I have no doubt. We'll begin unloading immediately."

"Thank you, Commander."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

The Canadians were the passengers who were originally billeted to the _Enterprise_ , along with several thousand American witches and wizards. While the Americans were able to resettle their own citizens on the remaining two ships, the Canadians were left without seats. So when Harry offered them space on the _Invincible_ , both the magical and Muggle Canadian governments accepted with gratitude.

Harry led the refugees into the dry dock and over the support beams that now no longer supported the weight of the ship so much as kept it in place. Padma and a team of assistants were there to help the shell-shocked young families find a place to stay. After the people were safely inside the radiation-free fields of the _Invincible_ , Harry lingered to speak to the Commander as his people began unloading several metric tonnes of donated food and emergency supplies.

"When we left Halifax a week ago, we had over seven thousand passengers," the commander said softly. "We've been doing burials at sea on a daily basis. I doubt there's a family among them who hasn't lost at least one loved one, if not more. They would be walking about just fine, and then fall over dead the next minute. Never seen the like!"

"It's been happening all over the world," Harry said. "The first die-offs began in India years ago. Whole villages of witches and wizards simply dropped dead. I know I look ridiculous, but this gear is the only reason I'm still alive."

Courtemanche shook his head and looked up as the ship's crane unloaded yet another huge pallet of supplies. "It is a terrible and amazing thing," he said. "To think this is a prelude for ours."

"Does your crew know?"

"Not everything, no."

Harry nodded. "If they don't have a berth on the North American ark ship, then sir, I would respectfully suggest you not tell them. The ships we built would be lethal to your people, else we would have given the designs to your governments for all the world. And the weight I've lived under since I learned the truth…is not something I'd wish on anyone who has no hope of surviving it."

"Aye, I think you may be right, Admiral." Courtemanche took a deep breath and offered his gloved hand. "It was an honor to meet you, sir. Take good care of our people."

"You have my word."

Five hours later, Harry magically pushed the _Preserver_ back out into the lake so that they had a chance to take advantage of the already broken ice before the night froze it solid again. He waved at the crew, most of whom had no idea their world would end within the year, and then walked back to the dry dock.

The cavernous interior of the space was empty—even the scaffolding was gone. He stepped into the ship and saw Padma there, regarding him with knowing eyes. "Take your potion," she said simply.

Harry did so and then began stripping off the cursed demron. He vanished the greasepaint from his skin with a sigh of relief, applied the skin ointment to cure the inevitable rash, and stretched until his back popped twice. The uniform of the ship's crew consisted of simple slacks, black boots and a long sleeve white shirt and half-jacket that Hermione insisted looked very sharp. It was on this half-jacket that they had applied rank insignia, since Harry and his senior staff agreed they needed to have a strict hierarchy among the crew itself to ensure order and the seamless functioning of the ship.

Harry climbed a narrow staircase just inside the door into the _Janus_ room, as Hermione called it. The space ran along the length of the ship, with support walls at ten foot intervals with one meter holes set in the metallic bracing. In the center of the room at chest height ran a smooth metallic bar braced from both sides.

Harry grabbed it, jumped up, and then flipped upside down as he oriented to the opposing gravity field on the other hemisphere of the ship where the lead bridge was located. He stepped into the command space, which was the product of the most advanced melding of technology and magic ever seen. Computers ran arithmantic calculations and magical power calculations for the lodestones.

"Admiral on the Bridge," Captain Dinah Patterson, the American who ran their test flight, snapped.

"At ease," Harry said with a wave as he took the admiral's chair behind and to the right of the captain's. It was Hermione who convinced him that, while he was in charge of the ship as a whole, Patterson had actual navy experience and had done very well on the test flight.

"Delegate, Harry," Hermione had ordered.

So, Harry delegated.

Patterson, an attractive witch in her forties with blonde hair and brown eyes, gave him a nod and took her seat. "All stations, prepare for ascension. Retract the dome."

"Dome is retracting, Captain." Harry blinked in surprise—the pilot was none other than Ginny Weasley.

 _Did that mean Ginny got to go faster than light before he did_?

"Lieutenant Philips, status of the stones?"

"Stones are in proper configuration," the young Brit said. "Ready for ascension at your command."

"Activate _disillusionment_."

"Activated," a crewman Harry didn't know said from his station.

Patterson turned to Harry with a wry smile. "Admiral?"

"At your prerogative, Captain," Harry said with a nervous grin.

"Thank you, sir. Lieutenant Weasley, take us up, point zero-zero one percent."

The ship used a clever array of magical mirrors inset at the meeting points of the titanium triangles that made up the hull of the habitat domes. The captain was able to control the view with a protean-charmed hand controller taken from a Playstation videogame console. Using it now, the wall-sized mirror flashed around the entire dry dock as the _Invincible_ rose smoothly out of its birthplace.

She kept rotating until she saw _Preserver_ making its way slowly through the ice of the lake. Still, they continued to rise until in mere minutes they broke the atmosphere entirely. Harry stood as if he were on earth itself and looked out among the stars.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let's find the Americans," Patterson said. "And then we will see what we see. Well done."

That was it, Harry realized.

They had finally left Earth behind.


	12. The Yanks are Coming

A/N: Review Responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks to all who reviewed.

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve: The Yanks Are Coming!**

January 23, 2011

For some reason Harry assumed, almost from the first start of the _Invincible_ project, that they would all get to relax once they escaped the dangers of Earth. He figured they would be able to float off into space, living the high life on stored food in an almost earth-like artificial habitat and just wait out the disaster. He had dreams of he and Hermione having children, and growing old and happy together.

He realized within the first hour of their launch that he was an idiot.

First, the Americans were missing. The two American ships, the _Columbia_ and the _Franklin_ , carried between them over 31,000 witches and wizards, mostly younger, healthy people, since toward the end the elderly and infirm were dying so very quickly even with the potion.

Given the multi-national treaty that effectively put him in charge of everything, he decided they would continue to linger in the dark side of the moon where they were supposed to rendezvous. That meant, in his mind, they could sit around and do nothing for a couple of days.

Yep, he was an idiot.

The morning after their launch, he woke up in the cabin he and Hermione shared in the central fuselage alone. That was never a good sign—he hated waking up without his wife. Still he took a quick shower with the water timer clicking off how much time he had. He finished with a full two minutes of water left and simply stood under the hot shower until the allotted time ended and the water shut off automatically.

After dressing and preparing tea in a thermos, he stepped out of the enlarged cabin after only five hours of sleep and found himself staring at a whole mob of shouting, angry people held back from his door by a line of aurors led by Creevey. He realized he and Hermione had silenced their cabin, so of course they didn't hear anything. Over the din of people calling or even screaming for him, and trying to reach through the stressed cordon of aurors, Dennis Creevey shot him a strained grin.

"Sorry, boss," he shouted, using his old title for Harry out of habit. "Parvati said people were trying to wake you up, so we came down to secure your door. Had to call for back up, though."

"I can see that," Harry said. He put his wand to his throat, cast a _Sonorous_ , and shouted, "Silence!"

The people in the front of the press winced at the volume, but Harry needed to make sure everyone heard him. Finally, the din abated enough for him to speak. "Everyone please return to your cabins or assigned sleeping areas," he said. "I and my staff will be touring both habitat domes today and we'll be glad to answer any questions or concerns at that time. Everyone shouting at me at once, however, gets nothing done for anyone."

Eventually the crowd began to break up. As they did, Harry grabbed Dennis. "Where's my wife?"

"No idea, boss."

Harry frowned—he hated waking up alone. "How 'bout Parvati?"

"I'm here!" He looked and saw a hand waving from behind the dispersing crowd. She was swimming against the current of humanity to reach him, for once her petite figure working against her. Finally, though, she found a clear path and reached him slightly out of breathe. "Sorry, Harry."

"What the hell happened? I've only been in my cabin for six hours!"

"Someone started a rumor that the Americans were going to try and invade the ship," Parvati said. He realized that, while he might have snatched some sleep, she hadn't. He'd never see her as _un-_ made up as he saw her now, with frazzled, unkempt hair and dark rings under her eyes. "We don't know who started it, but people are terrified. Someone's even trying to start a militia in the Broceliande habitat."

"Bugger me," he muttered. "Okay, Parvati, go get some sleep before you pass out. Dennis, where's Proudfoot?"

"Passed out already, probably," he said. Harry looked closely at the young man and saw he probably was looked as tired as Parvati.

"Go wake him up," Harry said. "I'm going to the bridge first, then I'm going to find my wife, and then we'll start figuring out what the hell is going on."

His efforts to reach the bridge were hampered by another near riot of people shouting and screaming and trying for whatever reason to get on the bridge. Captain Patterson herself was trying to speak to the mob while desperately clinging to a semblance of control, but Harry's trained instincts were detecting a very ugly undercurrent in the people around her, different than what he sensed from those trying to reach him earlier.

Of course. _She's American_.

Just then Proudfoot arrived flanked by a dozen aurors. "Bugger me, Harry," the older auror muttered. "I close my eyes for a few hours and everything goes to hell."

Harry nodded while considering what to do to break up the ugly crowd. If he swept in with aurors, not only would it set a very bad tone for the beginning of what was likely a years-long trip, but it also ran the risk of serious injury to himself and his people. Unlike with Muggle riot policing action, witches and wizards were all armed with potentially lethal weapons.

Instead, he thought of another way to get everyone's attention—he cast the _Patronus_ Charm. The silver stag—the pure embodiment of white magic—streaked through the crowd, sometimes moving right through people—until at last the shouting stopped and the mob turned to face the direction the stag eventually returned to.

"Good morning," Harry said, casting a _Sonorous_ charm to be heard. "I know everyone has questions and concerns, but this is not the way to get your questions answered, or your concerns heard. So I am asking all of you to return to your assigned housing units immediately. I and my staff will be in the habitats later today or tomorrow, as time permits, and everyone will have an opportunity to ask questions or share concerns at that time."

The crowded muttered, but enough people knew him on sight that word quickly spread among the mob. Harry simply stood staring them down with wand in hand while Davin and his aurors stood ready behind him.

"What about the bloody yanks?" someone shouted.

"What about them?" Harry said. "They gave us the damned guns on this ship. The man who single-handedly built our bloody engines is a Yank. Our captain is a Yank! The Yanks are not going to be attacking this ship. And frankly, if their ships were damaged, we have more than enough space to take them in without a fight anyway. This ship was built to last generations. Now please, all of you, go back to your habitats. Right now."

Though he framed it as a plea, the last two words came out as orders. He did not move as he stared the crowd down. Eventually, the people broke up just like the separate crowd from his bedroom. When they were broken up, Harry turned to Davin.

"I want a security perimeter established for the ship's core," he ordered. "Authorized personnel only. Find Padma or Neville and get a listing of assigned housing and who's where. We're probably going to have to create IDs at some point. But I don't want another riot up here."

"Got it," he said with a nod.

He and his men got to work, leaving Harry to face a flustered, red-faced captain. "They were about to start cursing me, weren't they?" she asked.

"Looked like it."

Patterson shook her head, muttering angrily. "People can be so damned stupid sometimes."

He joined her on the bridge. Inside, the bridge crew were all standing near their stations, wands at the ready, even Ginny. It was obvious they'll all been on duty non-stop. "Captain, where's your relief crew?"

She snorted. "Good question. They were supposed to show up two hours ago."

"And do you know where my wife is?"

"She's in the aft alignment room," Ginny volunteered from her station. "She came by earlier—she's working with Webber on something."

He was momentarily distracted from the redhead by the sight of the dark side of the moon dominating the mirror display. It took an effort of will to pull his attention back to those around him. "Thanks," he said with a nod. "Any word on the Americans?"

"Yes," Patterson said as she redid a frayed pony tail. "We received a mirror message. Their navigation and power control systems were off. They shot past the orbit of Jupiter by accident and are now making their way back using small bursts of speed to ensure they don't get lost again."

"Metric conversion issues again?"

Patterson gave an almost hysterical laugh. "God, wouldn't that just by the thing? I bet Captain White on the _Columbia_ was chewing people out all day yesterday. So much for American know-how."

Harry reached out and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. He could see she was tired and stretched almost to a breaking point. "Do you have family on one of those ships?"

She nodded.

"They'll be fine, Dinah. And when they get here, feel free to invite them over once we know the fools here won't curse them."

Patterson forced a smile. "I may just go over there instead."

Harry shrugged. "As long as the Yanks don't start shouting about a new British invasion. Ginny, you know the messaging _Patronus_ charm, right? Let's get your replacement crew up here."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Harry's experience with the crowds was not unique. Anyone in a ship's uniform got cornered by worried or frenzied crowds wanting to confirm if the Americans were going to try and take the ship. Once the aurors got control of the ship's core and sent the crowds back to the habitats, the relief crew was able to make it to the bridge. In the lead was none other than Seamus Finnigan. The Irish wizard wore his half-jacket like a peacock, but his expression was sober as he met the captain and admiral.

"Got pounced on by a bunch of wild wallys," he said. "Wouldn't listen to a word edgewise. Like the bloody Yanks even could invade."

The Seamus of Hogwarts had grown up a great deal. From the first meeting of the DA in Harry and Hermione's house in London to the building of the ship, Seamus had quietly demonstrated a calm competence that Harry and his department heads appreciated. He wasn't the best duelist or most powerful wizard. But neither was he the boy who blew up feathers at every turn. He learned the systems and passed the tests that not even Harry had had a chance to take yet, and earned the three stripes on his half jacket.

Seamus turned to Dinah and said, "Captain, get some sleep. Ya look like yer 'bout to pass out."

"It's been a long twenty-six hours," she admitted. "Crew, let's go crash."

The two crews changed positions, and with a final wave, Patterson led her people back to their quarters for some much needed sleep.

"Seamus, lock down the bridge after I leave," Harry said. "Only command staff allowed. Feel free to ask the elves for food or whatever you need."

"Right-o, Admiral. Expecting any more trouble?"

Harry sighed. "I've learned never to underestimate the ability of crowds to be stupid."

Finnigan snorted. "Me own mum was the same way, bless her soul. If she heard it in the wireless or saw it in a paper, she took it as the gospel truth. We'll be fine."

With a grateful nod, Harry left the bridge and went looking for his wife. He found her forty minutes later on the other side of the ship's core in the aft alignment room. If the ship had engines as such, it would have been the engine room.

Instead, the ship had giant stones of magically charged magnetite suspended on a rod and pulley system. He stepped into the room and was immediately greeted by the backs of almost a dozen of Hermione's magical engineers. They glanced at him as he made his way around the gantry they stood on until he reached a clear spot.

The lodestones were contained in spherical rooms, one at the aft and one at the bow, and then smaller ones each on the dorsal and ventral sides of the ship to generate the ship's gravity. They had several hundred metric tonnes of replacement stones, since if a stone cracked they could not repair it.

Hermione, Webber, and four more wizards and witches had their wands pointed at not one, but two of the huge magnetized, magically charged stones. As he watched, they levitated the one away and placed another into the cradle. Suddenly metal rings that Harry hadn't noticed before began spinning widely, and he realized he was looking at a magical gyroscope.

 _I really should pay more attention to this stuff._ He hadn't even been to the alignment rooms because Hermione simply took care of it. She knew his eyes glazed over when she went into technical details so she didn't bother. But now that they were in space, and their very lives depended on it, Harry realized that he needed to know this.

He looked over the faces of the engineers and saw a familiar one—a strikingly beautiful, familiar one who happened to be looking at him. He motioned Gabrielle Delacour over and she came with a smile.

"Admiral Potter," she said with formal words but a very informal smile. "It is agreeable to see you again."

"And you too, lieutenant," he said, spotting the bar on her half-jacket. "Help me understand what they're doing right now."

"Commander Potter is teaching us how to replace and align the lodestones in the event of an emergency," Gabrielle said. Harry remembered that when she was acting as a ship's officer, Hermione was a commander. When acting as a civilian, she was Doctor Potter. "It is a very delicate procedure, and must be done slowly. We've been here two hours now."

 _Which would explain his waking up alone_.

Gabrielle continued to explain what Hermione was having her people do, going into enough detail to prove she knew what was happening and had earned her own rank within Hermione's people. In fact, he saw she was only one of six lieutenants—the rests were specialists.

When the old stone was removed and had its magical charge drained to prevent it from interfering with the current one, they completed the alignment using wands and computers. It was an impressive feat of technomagery that made Harry even more convinced just how bloody awesome his wife was

"Any idea when she'll be done?"

"The agenda for the day was pretty full," Gabrielle said with an apologetic shrug.

"No, that's fine. What you are all doing is keeping the ship alive. I won't interrupt."

He nodded to her before slipping back out of the alignment room. He wasn't even sure Hermione had noticed. Instead, he went looking for Padma Patil. A quick _patronus_ and its answer led him to the number five storage room on the other hemisphere of the ship, forcing him to cross through the Janus room again.

He found Padma, Neville, his wife Hannah, and a dozen others all with a magically expanding scroll of parchment and a diction quill that was moving so fast it blurred. She saw Harry enter the expanded storage room and motioned for Neville to keep taking their inventory.

She looked as tired as Harry felt. "Morning," she said dully. "Parv told me about this morning. Anyone hurt?"

"Not yet," Harry said. "Any idea how these Yank rumors started?"

Harry was surprised when Hannah Abbot left the others and joined them, obviously having overhead. Hannah in Hogwarts had been a cute but slightly round girl with blonde ponytails. She had grown into a voluptuous woman of classical English beautiful whose figure showed no sign of the two children she'd already delivered to her husband.

"I know exactly where it started," she said with a frown. "One of the Canadians started talking about how the American ships had guns and wouldn't let them on board and forced them to go on that long boat ride that killed her Mum and Dad and on and on. Soon it went from the 'Americans had guns' to 'Yanks were going to kill us all' and then to a fully-blown bloody panic. The tossers."

"So the Broclieande habitat?"

Hannah nodded. "We were trying to take a census when the panic blew up. Most of the French and Canadians are in that habitat, but so are a few of the American students and their families."

"Right. Thanks, Hannah. Padma, how did you want to do the census?"

"We never got an itinerary or manifest from the Canadians," she said, motioning forward the stacks of supply her staff were going through. "We have no idea who we have, or even how many for sure. So I wanted to make a domesday book, which requires us to charm the book to everyone on board."

"Show me," he said.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

In some things, magic simply could not compete with science. Hermione told Harry repeatedly that there would never by a charm that could compute like a computer could. The number of Arithmatic arrays necessary to do the equivalent of a single computer program like _Excel_ could fill the walls of the Great Hall of Hogwarts and take a lifetime of training to use.

But there were some things magic could do that technology could not. Magical census books were one of them.

During the Christmas of 1085, William of Normandy decided to take a census of the people and holdings of his newly conquered lands of England and Wales. The book was not just a census of people but was also a summary of all their lands, cattle and property both to find out what he had conquered, and to help determine the taxes of the vanquished Edward the Confessor. The book was considered law, and the finality of it was what led the English subjects to label it the Domesday Book, since in many ways it was a book of judgment against them.

What the history books failed to note was that William directed his court wizards to do the same for wizards, and so was born the first magical British domesday book. Since then, similar books had been created for Hogwarts, and when the Wizengamot formed it after the Statutes of Secretary, the Ministry of Magic.

Once a person was charmed into the book, the book automatically updated not just their vital statistics, but also any offspring they had, and the offspring of that offspring, creating a self-updating census for an entire region. The only way for a child to fall out of such a book was to be born a squib, or to come from outside the region.

The _Invincible_ already had its own book, which Padma started back in Hogwarts valley in late March after the Goblins and their ultimate victims laid siege to the valley. However, it was last updated for new arrivals on August 18th, during their search for Astoria Malfoy. It hadn't been worked on since.

Harry gathered his auror and hitwizard force, which counting the Americans and French aurors came to a total of two hundred witches and wizards, and led half of them into the Broceliande habitat while sending the other half to the Avalon habitat.

Rather than enter through the null-gravity access portal at the far side of the dome, where the low slope met with the ship's core, Harry had his people dropped through the access panel into the open air of the dome on brooms, which was thick with humidity from the lake in the distance. It was a surreal experience, dropping from a height of almost four kilometers directly down into the dome. Even the air was thin up there.

At Harry's orders, most of the aurors and hitwizards then began spreading through the entire habitat, announcing in both English and French that there would be a mandatory, habitat-wide meeting with Harry Potter by the lake in one hour using _sonorus-_ charmed voices.

While they flew around the habitat, Harry and a squad of ten more aurors flew to the edge of the lake, which already had grass growing to reduce any soil erosion. Led by Dennis, the aurors established a perimeter large enough to hold tens of thousands, while Harry conjured a high stepped podium to speak on. The aurors used a series of wand-based wards to restrict wizard and witches to a single entrance, which they illustrated with a conjured arched trellis wide enough for only two or three people to pass through at once.

The first people arrived as the aurors were completing the temporary wards. Dennis Creevey stood just within the trellis with the ship's Domesday book, and as they walked in he and the dozen or so aurors each cast the census charms as each person through the trellis, whether they were a witch, wizard or child.

Harry, meanwhile, put on his business face and greeted the nervous, sometimes frightened people with a smile and a handshake. As Hermione pointed out on the day they discovered how much they loved each other (and enjoyed _loving_ each other) Harry was an intensely shy person. It was incredibly difficult for him to walk up to a stranger and attempt to make a new friend.

But he discovered as an auror and later as a leader in the DMLE that when it came to business, he had no fear at all. Once he had a uniform on, he could talk to anybody. It wasn't Harry Potter making friends; it was Auror Potter or Director Potter (or Admiral Potter, now) doing what had to be done.

It was this ability, perhaps even more than his fame or sheer fighting skill, that led Kingsley to promote Harry so fast. Always before, the face of the DMLE was a scowling, unapproachable auror. Even Amelia Bones had projected an aloofness that permeated her department during her lifetime. But Harry was able to smile and shake hands with anyone, and in the post-Voldemort world, having a wizard who'd proven himself a capable fighter who was still approachable was a valuable political commodity.

He met them now, putting them at ease and pointing to them where to sit. He used the limited French he'd picked up from Fleur over the years for the Francophones. His accent was atrocious, and more often than not his attempts produced laughter, but he could tell they appreciated the gesture. With so many people, it took a long time for them all to gather, but Harry kept shaking hands and speaking to those nearest the podium, while encouraging everyone to move up because it was going to be crowded.

Finally, when people stopped arriving, Harry gave a nod to those aurors and hitwizards he'd originally sent out. They left again, this time casting detection charms to see who they missed, while Harry stepped up onto the podium.

"Good morning," he said, once again almost unconsciously casting a wandless _Sonorous_ on himself. "My name is Harry Potter. Just so that we have no questions about why it's me speaking to you, let's talk legalities for a moment. While it is true that this started as a private venture funded by myself, the _Invincible_ was eventually joined by charter to the North Atlantic Magical Preservation Organization, a multinational organization made up of England, France, the United States and Canada, with cooperation from the Indian Ministry. The treaty was signed by the heads of the magical governments for all those nations. The treaty grants me full plenipotentiary powers to act as the governing authority for not just this ship, but for all other ships the member nations may launch, and appoints me admiral of the NAMPO fleet. So, for those of you who were worried about the Americans invading, rest assured I will order them not to."

That captured a few laughs, albeit nervous ones. Harry continued without pause.

"Evidently a rumor started that the Americans were going to attack us. Their ships are armed, so the rumor went. Well, it's true that the American ships have guns. What some of you may not realize is that our ship has more guns, because our ship is more than twice as large as both of theirs put together. But more important, it was the Americans who gave us our guns in the first place, just like I gave the Americans the plans to build their own ships. The whole point of NAMPO wasn't to pit us against each other, but to save as many people as we could. The only reason there aren't ships from Mexico, Brazil or Bulgaria is because those nations had goblin-dominated economies that they would not, and could not break away from. We can talk about the goblins later.

"For now, know that the Americans are having a hard time even finding us, much less invading. They overshot the moon by a few hundred million miles and went to Jupiter by accident. They're making their way back cautiously to rendezvous with us. And when they do, their captains will be answering to me as fleet admiral. Because as the Beatles proved, we all know it's the Brits who invade America, not the other way around."

That got a lot more laugher, Harry was glad to see.

One crises down. A thousand more to go.


	13. A Rag Tag Fleet

A/N: Chap 12 review responses are in my forums as normal. Also, in reviewing this chapter I found several mix-ups of astrology vs. astronomy. If you encounter any I missed, pretend you didn't. Thanks all for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen: A Rag Tag Fleet**

January 24th, 2011

"I guess that's why you're the admiral."

A mentally and physically exhausted Harry called an executive staff meeting after a very long day meeting with and speaking to the populations of both habitats. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and be dead to the ship for a few hours, but there was still too much to do.

So, he sat at a table with Dinah Patterson, fresh after a good few hours of sleep, Hermione and Daniel Webber, Padma Patil, Neville and Charlie Weasley, Doctor Samantha Barnes and Aurora Sinestra and Davin Proudfoor. The comment came, most surprisingly, from the often caustic Doctor Barnes.

It didn't surprise Harry that Hermione didn't get along with the older woman. They were simply too similar in personality to every truly be friends.

"What does that mean?" Hermione demanded, betraying her own exhaustion after a long, hard day.

Fortunately, Barnes was experienced enough not to rise to meet Hermione's challenging tone. "Could you have stopped a potential ship-wide civil war with a few words and a bad joke or two?"

"The jokes weren't that bad," Harry whined.

"Yes they were, Harry," Hermione assured him. "But yes, point taken. The ship was out of control until you stepped in. We had people threatening the life of the captain and overrunning the ship's core, and now we have a census of the ship's population and a basic set of rules and security for the crew. And you did it without having to raise your wand to a single witch or wizard."

"Well, thank you. Let's not pat me on the back too much, or I might start to believe my own legend," Harry said tiredly. "Dinah, any word on the Americans?"

"They should be reaching us within twenty-four hours," she said. "They're going very, very slow."

Still, that gave him time to rest so he wasn't going to complain. "Padma, what's the food distribution looking like?"

Padma frowned. "That's going to take some work, Harry. We discovered some family elves raiding the supply stores at the orders of their families. The Hogwarts elves now work for the ship and have put a stop to it, but we know some hoarding happened. We will need to ward the orchards and grain fields as well. We're going to want to set up a food voucher system at some point or another, and…well, I hate to say this, but we may need to confiscate the family elves for the ship."

"Work on it and let me know what you come up with," Harry said. "We'll hold off on kidnapping elves for now, but nothing is off the table completely until we have a better handle on the situation. Each habitat is going to be holding elections for two representatives. The four of them will form an advisory council to aid with the governance of the ship. Think of them as a miniature parliament. I expect the Americans will have their own system, and we might even consolidate it into one council, two reps per habitat dome. But you will not be answering to the council—we're going to have to keep the ship crew functions and the civilian governance separate."

"Does that mean two constabularies?" Davin asked.

Harry shook his head. "No, law enforcement, security and peacekeeping has always been a centralized function in all magical ministries. But things like forming an economy, labor rules, regulating civil behavior…any rules they come up with we'll have to ratify since we'll be enforcing them, but it will invest the people with a say in their daily lives, and make it easier to enlist their cooperation when we need it. The ship cannot function as a democracy, but that doesn't mean we want it run as a dictatorship either."

He paused to sip some tea. "Hermione, Daniel, what's the status of the ship?"

"We did find some errors in the acceleration algorithms," Daniel said. "The computers still sometimes have trouble running arithmantic projections. But once we ironed it out we think we have the ship's top speed."

"Oh? What percent power, then?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, that…explains what happened with the two American ships. Harry, we can't use more than fifty-percent power. Any more than that and the internal lodestones will lose their integrity and the ship's gravity will fail. Everyone would be crushed and the habitat domes would probably explode."

Harry frowned. "Okay, good to know. So, how fast will 50% power take us?"

Webber opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. It was Hermione who spoke.

"Everyone has to understand we didn't have a full understanding of how the warp field acceleration related to the field shape and stone orientation. We thought it would be a consistent, progressive acceleration. Instead, as the Americans just discovered, the acceleration operates on an exponential curve."

"What does that mean?" Barnes asked.

"It means that at 30 percent power, we were not going 70 times the speed of light, we were going roughly 15 times the speed of light," Hermione said. "However, at 35 percent power, we were going 78 times the speed of light."

"At fifty percent power," Daniel said, "We will be going approximately 9,765,625 times the speed of light."

The whole table stared at the two magical engineers in shocked silence. "How fast is that?" Harry finally asked.

"Two million millions meters per second," Hermione said.

"Or a billion kilometers per second if you don't talk crazy," Daniel said.

Hermione hit him in the shoulder; Harry recognized an on-going point of contention when he saw one. "Hermione, you're my wife. I need you to remain faithful and only hit me, please."

Hermione had the grace to blush while others around the table snickered. "I'll remember that, _dear_ ," she said.

"Although, if you get to hit my boyfriend, I get to hit on your husband," Padma said with a wry smile.

"All he'll do is step on your toes dancing," Hermione pointed out to the laughter of those who had heard the story of Harry's Yule Ball disaster.

"In all seriousness, though," Hermione said, sobering quickly, "those speeds do present a problem. We won't be able to see oncoming objects in time to avoid them."

Professor Sinestra, who other than Neville was the sole survivor of the Hogwarts staff since Sprout, Flitwick and even Poppy Pomfrey all eventually succumbed at the end, cleared her throat. "I've been working with Cassandra on possible destinations and courses. I believe we may have a solution to that in progress."

Hermione raised a brow. "Oh?"

"We're using a mixture of astrology, astronomy, divination and applied astrophysics," the astrology professor said. "In essence, we're creating an interactive, magical map of the universe extending out several lightyears in every direction. At the speeds Hermione is speaking of, we would be traveling more than a light year every single hour. So if we can consistently create a map in front of us for at least one light year's distance, it would give us an hour to decelerate or change course as necessary."

"Is that even possible?" Hermione asked. Harry recognized her tone as not challenging, but fascinated.

"We've already plotted four planets in the Alpha Centari-Proxima trinary system," Aurora said with a beaming smile. "Four planets! Two gas giants and two rocky planets—none hospitable, unfortunately, but the results are just astonishing. We'll show you when we're ready to discuss possible destinations."

Although she said it as an aside, the question of destinations was one Harry had to consider very hard. According to the projections, the radiation that made earth inhospitable would abate in another twenty years, but the Earth itself would remain a wasteland for centuries to come until the continents stabilized in a completely new distribution of land masses.

"How is it working with Cassandra Appolline?" Hermione asked. "We've all noticed that she doesn't come to the meetings very often. Is it like working with Professor Trelawney?"

Sinestra shrugged eloquently. "Sybil Trelawney was a woman who parlayed what little legitimate talent she had into a career," Sinestra said. "While I can't say we were friends, Sybil was not a bad person at all. But Cassandra…Cassandra is a person who pursued a career to take her mind off an overwhelming and frightening level of talent. She wakes with a scream on her lips from visions she won't speak of. I'm sure she's seen all our futures, individually, but she doesn't speak of them unless forced. And her work on the astrogation chart has been nothing short of astounding. Working with her is humbling, to be honest."

Given that the two women headed the astronavigation department, Harry was glad to hear they were making progress. "I'll come by tomorrow if I have time," he said.

"I'll come too, if you don't mind," Hermione added.

 _Oh, this will be fun,_ Harry thought to himself.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

It was something to see, watching a craft emerge from faster than light travel. Harry was taking a turn on the command deck with the last of the three shifts that were on deck at all times, even if the ship wasn't particularly doing anything.

He spent that time learning what he should have learned before they left dry-dock, if he hadn't been busy closing down wards, saving people's lives or otherwise trying to keep Hogwarts Valley from imploding in fear and violence. He tried reading the ridiculously complex manual Hermione and Webber wrote for the captain, and then flipped to the back where Patterson made her much more practical and direct notes on her job function.

As much as Harry loved Hermione, he accepted the woman could not write just one sentence when she could say the same thing in ten. Likewise, she accepted the fact that Harry was the type of person who learned best through practice and hands-on experience. It was why throughout school he excelled in the practicals while his theoretical work always lagged behind. It was why, even to this day, he was an abysmal potions brewer, his brief experience in his sixth year notwithstanding.

He'd moved onto the altitudinal control station and was learning about the placement of the many, many small banishing plates around the ship that could give small thrusts for positioning purposes only. Rather than link each through a vast runic array, instead the French rune masters managed to create an electrical on/off switch for the runes that would execute the banishing charm itself. Even so, the controls looked daunting and the amount of precision required was astonishing.

"Admiral, look!"

Harry looked up to see a red swirling bow-wave of light forming a few thousand kilometers away. The others in the third shift also stood and looked on as the bow-wave suddenly exploded in a shower of red-white light. The light flared outward, then somehow looped around and disappeared into a dot that seemed much too small to either make that much energy, or to suck it back in.

"That would be the Kasimov regulators," a familiar voice announced from the entrance to the bridge. Harry turned to see his wife walking in, flanked by Captain Patterson.

"We received a note from Appolline that I should come to the bridge," the captain explained when she saw his raised brow. "Just in time."

Just seconds after the first spectacular decanting, a second bow-wave of light heralded the arrival of the other American ship. Again, the energy released seemed wildly disproportionate to the size of the ship itself. However, he then reminded himself of the fire Webber's first warp test model produced.

One of the wall mirrors flashed, and a moment later Harry found himself looking at the dark, imposing features of Captain Malcolm White, US Navy, retired, and a two time world Quodpot Championship player. Even as imposing as he was, however, Harry noticed the man had lost weight and looked exhausted.

"Admiral Potter!" he said in a booming voice.

"Captain White," Harry responded. "Glad you could join us."

"Someone forgot to tell us how fast those damned drives actually went!" he said, though a moment later he grinned. "Jupiter is a damned beautiful place. "

"I can't even imagine," Harry said. "Captain, what's the status of your ship?"

"As good as can be," White said. "There was some unnecessary drama before we left, and unfortunately a few deaths. Once we convinced the people we weren't all going to die, things calmed down. You?"

"We have to convince our people you weren't going to invade us for our whiskey and women."

White stared a moment before laughing. "I'm a married man, Mr. Potter, your women are not in danger. But your whiskey? That could be another thing entirely. Permission to come aboard?"

"Granted. Let Captain Goldstein know to come as well. You might want to send an underofficer you don't like first, though, just to make sure the vanishing cabinets work in space."

"Harry!" Hermione said, aghast.

White, however, guffawed. "I'll let Captain Goldstein go first then! See you in a few, Admiral."

Fortunately, the vanishing cabinets connecting all three ships worked perfectly fine despite being in space. Harry opened the door and found all six foot six of Captain White waiting for him in a uniform very similar to his own, only with the American badge on his full jacket.

The cabinet next to the first opened to reveal Captain Barry Goldstein, who at five foot six was a foot shorter and half the width of White. However, the men did have similar receding hairlines, and both were educated in both Magic and Muggle schools. Looking White in the face, however, made Harry's neck hurt.

"I feel like I need to levitate myself to look you in the eye," Harry said as the two men shook hands.

"I could slouch more," White offered dryly.

"Then you'd look like you're about to eat us," Goldstein laughed. He took Harry's hand, and then shook hands with Hermione and Dinah. "Doctor Potter, Captain Patterson. Good to see you both. We apologize for our delay."

"It wasn't just us overshooting the moon by half a solar system," White said. "I ended up on one side of the Jovian system, and Barry here ended up on the other. We're lucky we found each other at all."

"Well, tour first, or business first?" Harry asked.

"With respect, I have to see your habitats," Goldsmith said. "Sixteen kilometers?"

"And four kilometers high over the lake," Harry confirmed.

As they toured the ship, Harry learned about the 'drama' the Americans experienced. The American's built their facility in Ajo, Arizona, just 69 kilometers from the Mexican border. Mexico was the goblin's second strongest economy in the New World, just after Brazil, having come over with the Spanish quest for gold. The earliest British magical colonists were often debtors trying to escape the goblins, and so within the American colonies the goblins were never allowed to gain a foothold. But in Mexico, the goblins had been doing business since the 15th Century.

Somehow the Goblins learned that the Americans were duplicating the British efforts. And just like in Britain, the goblins convinced the Mexican magical ministry that they could only survive with the Goblins, and the Goblins would only help them if they destroyed the American efforts. It was an act of pure spite to mark the Goblins' last days on Earth.

And so, regardless of their Muggle government's edicts to the contrary, a force of two hundred Mexican witches and wizards invaded Ajo, Arizona, in a last-ditch effort to destroy the American ships. Fifty of them dropped dead of radiation poisoning within the first thirty minutes of the conflict since the American southwest was, like India, a radioactive hotspot.

The American wizards held them off using wards from inside their hangar, while their Muggle marine escorts continued to pick off the flagging, irradiated enemy one by one, until after only two hours, the entire force had died.

It was a stupid, horrible waste of life. And as much as Harry hated to admit it, four-fifths of Britain's entire magical population died just as stupidly, either by ignoring their project or by siding with the Goblins.

Eventually they finished their tour of the habitats and their burgeoning towns and returned to the core, where Hermione led them to Cassandra Appolline's astronavigation center. Like all the cabins in the ship's core, Appolline's space was a single cabin of ten square feet expanded to easily a five hundred times that.

The decision to invite the internationally renowned Seer into the project was not one Harry took lightly. His experiences with prophecy were universally negative. However, he'd read that she was also an accomplished astrologist and had a degree in astronomy as well from Northern Arizona University—a school Harry had never heard of before, but which evidently had a strong astronomy program.

When he broached the idea to Professor Sinistra at the very beginning, she enthusiastically agreed. "She's done more work to advance the field of magical astronomy than anyone alive," was how the astrology professor described her colleague.

During the planning and construction phase of the project, only Professor Sinistra attended the staff meetings and gave updates, which Harry barely listened to. He figured either Hermione or Padma—his two chief lieutenants within the organization, were handling it.

But walking into the Astronavigation Center, Harry realized he was doing both himself and the two ladies heading the center a disservice. The place looked simply astounding, and absolutely nothing like either the Hogwarts astrology tower, nor a center for divination.

The room was darkened around its elliptic circumference, with a column of light perhaps four meters wide in the middle. Within the column of light, Harry found himself staring at what looked like a three-dimensional picture of space, as if from the Hubble telescope. Except, as they all walked in, the image suddenly zoomed in with startling clarity to one particular point of light that quickly expanded to their own sun.

Within the view, Harry saw planets in exquisite detail, moons and dust and moving comets, and in an orbit around the far side of the third planet's moon, three small dots of red light. "Would you gentlemen care to see where you were?"

Sinistra grinned at both Captains White and Goldstein as she joined them at the display. With her wand, she began to manipulate the display, casually moving aside space until they found themselves staring at the stunning Jovian system. A red dot appeared on the sun-ward side of the system, while another appeared on the far side.

As they watched, red lines began depicting the two ships' attempts to locate each other, zig-zagging about the system until they both arrived at Europa. Only then did the red lines take them back to Earth.

"So if we'd bothered to actually call you, could you have gotten us back here faster?" White said.

Sinistra grinned wider, but she at least had the grace not to rub it in the American's faces. "Why don't we have something like this?" Goldstein asked.

Harry shrugged, but Hermione said, "Because we snagged Cassandra Appolline before you did," she said with a grin to match Sinistra's. "Early bird and all that. Cassandra, are you here?"

The frail-looking witch with the cloudy blue eyes stood between Harry and Hermione. He couldn't detect any movement, she simply stood there.

"Hello," she said with a wide-eyed blink. "I'm glad you made it back. Is your wife feeling better, Captain White?"

The large man blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Yes, she is. This is a very impressive display, Miss Appolline. May I ask how you created it?"

"The _Invincible_ is equipped with two two-meter optical telescopes, two single-dish radio telescopes, two infrared telescopes, two ultraviolet telescopes, two x-ray telescopes, and a series of Centaur-made runic astrolabes, all connected to a network of five magic-hardened IBM z10 Enterprise Class mainframe computers networked together using a Parallel Sysplex and a shared direct access storage device. It runs on software I wrote with a colleague from Princeton five years ago when I first realized I would be traveling in space to avoid the end of the world."

Harry wasn't sure what was more impressive—what she was telling them, or that she said it all in a slightly out-of-breath whisper as if she were talking about walking the dog or the weather.

"Appolline's programs are also running a large part of our command systems," Hermione said. "You know Daniel Webber? He himself was already aware of her programs and incorporated several of them into the ship's computers."

"This is incredible," Goldstein said, openly awestruck. "How far can you plot our course?"

"Far enough to make sure we don't run into any stars or planets," Sinistra said. It seemed obvious that of the two, Sinistra was the speaker. "That was really the whole point of this."

"Which, given we didn't realize how fast these warp drives actually were, is equally remarkable," Hermione admitted.

If Harry didn't know better, he'd say his wife had been completely won over by a seer. It had to have been the big, powerful computers that did it, he suspected.

"So, I don't suppose you know where we should go?" Marcus quipped.

Appolline didn't even use her wand. She reached up and merely touched the display, and the map of space disappeared. In its stead they saw a strange interlocking network of circles. One large circle, with two slightly smaller circles on either side, and around them a series of additional circles almost in rings almost like orbits, only six or seven orbits around four separate stars all moving around each other.

"That is where we are going," Appolline said in her wispy voice.

"What… I've not heard anything of this," Hermione said. She looked at Sinistra who appeared as mystified as the rest.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"Something I've been dreaming of since I was six," Appolline said. "A quintenary star system with a dozen living, breathing planets. Water and trees and birds singing, almost all within sight of each other. They are screaming for us to come, calling out through the void. We must go there. We are going there. I need to pee."

And with that, she was gone.

"That is one strange woman," Captain Marcus said, summing up all their thoughts.


	14. Hostile Counsel

A/N: Chap 13 review responses are in my forums as normal. As for this chapter-pay attention the the dates at the beginning of each section. This chapter covers a quite a bit of time. For instance, the last chapter was in January 2011.

* * *

 **Chapter Fourteen: Hostile Counsel**

April 15th, 2011

"This is going to suck," Harry predicted glumly.

"It was your idea. And it was a good idea, Harry."

"But it's still going to suck."

Harry stood looking at the ceiling as Hermione adjusted his formal uniform half-jacket. "There, we even got your hair under control."

"What will you be doing today?"

Her eyes twinkled, just like Dumbledore's used to. "We're playing with ways to make brooms space worthy."

"I hate you."

She kissed him. "Liar. Go lead, Harry. It's what you do best."

With one scorching look over her shoulder that promised him some fun that night, Harry took a deep breath and followed her out of the cabin.

Each deck of the ship's core had a single hall bisecting its length, lined with doors to expanded cabins or suites. This particular area was designated as crew quarters. Harry's cabin, for instance, had three small closets that could easily be expanded to bedrooms if their talk about having a baby went forward.

The hall was almost as wide as the cobble-stone streets of Diagon Alley in order to let people pass unhindered. Even so, it was crowded with various crew members going on about their business. They overloaded the crew to allow for three separate duty shifts with a corps of reservists to step in where needed. While it helped prevent burnout and gave a lot of people something to do, it made it crowded sometimes during shift changes.

Every one of them nodded respectfully to him as he walked by, and he returned their nods and tried to remember their names. If this were a true military ship, he knew they would be saluting. However, he did not want this to be a military ship. He needed a hierarchy for command purposes, but he enjoyed the slight informalities operating outside strict military parameters allowed.

Captain White, he knew, was more strict, while Captain Goldstein was as relaxed about protocols as Harry was. Patterson herself could be as strict or as casual as the occasion called for, which he appreciated.

Finally, he reached the conference room. Two of his aurors stood outside in the ship's uniforms. The only homage to their past roles was that their half-jackets were auror red rather than blue or black.

Harry nodded to both men, remembering them from his time in the DMLE, and finally stepped into the room.

Malcolm White rose to his impressive height abruptly, ending all conversations in the room. Goldstein and Patterson both rose as well, leaving the nine civilians in the room little choice but to rise as well.

"Good morning," Harry said with a forced smile. "And thank you for coming today. Bill, it's good to see you. Likewise, Madam Thrope. Please, have a seat."

The captains waited until the civilians were seated before sitting themselves. Harry looked around the table at the name placards and the placement of the captains to the newly elected Admiralty Advisory Council. Each captain sat by their ship's representatives, rather than clumping together.

"I've met some of you, but not all. So I'd appreciate introductions. Bill, could you start?"

Bill Weasley had been elected as one of the representatives for the _Avalon_ habitat. The Weasley family was well known both as a light wizarding family and as allies of Harry Potter. But even among the Weasleys, Bill shone as a natural leader. His co-councilor was a heavy-set woman in her mid-thirties with skin the color of crude oil and startling purple eyes.

"Argenta Thrope," she said in a full-throated voice when Bill finished. Harry remembered her as being a strong-willed opponent of Ministry abuses—which unfortunately put her opposite Harry on more than one occasion because of his role as DMLE director. She had a sizable following resulting from her efforts.

The _Broceliande_ representatives consisted of Fleur's first cousin Maurice Delacour, who before the end was being groomed by her father as a potential political leader, and William Stennis, a rough, scarred former auror from Canada who at 58 was also the oldest surviving wizard in the fleet.

The _Columbia_ representatives consisted of a slight woman with prematurely graying red hair named Madeline Hooper who had suffered damage to her magic from the radiation, but was elected anyway due to a past political career, and Howard Crenshaw, a handsome young Texan with a head full of blonde hair and a grating accent.

The _Franklin_ representatives consisted of a former attorney named Donald Lauer, and a former Salem's Regent named Carolyn Huffington.

The captains each introduced themselves, leaving finally Harry, who nodded and gave his name. He then stood and with his wand summoned a scroll from the back of the room. He made several copies and levitated a copy to each of the new councilors.

"This is the charter of the North Atlantic Magical Protection Organization, the authority by which this fleet operates and I and these captains command. I want you all to read over this document so that if any questions come up regarding the legality of the admiralty, you can respond accordingly."

The council spent the next few minutes in silent reading, while Harry himself tried to guess who would argue most about it. He knew Thrope would, just because she was the type of person who always fought authority, regardless of the circumstances. But of the others, Harry found himself slightly suspicious of the Texan.

It was probably the accent.

"This scroll gives you absolute power," Thrope all but growled, dropping it loudly against the wooden conference table. "The definition of plenipotentiary power for this document reads like a definition of a dictatorship. So why are we even here?"

Before Harry could answer, Bill Weasley cleared his throat. "Madam Thrope, you've been dealing with Harry for years now. When has he ever acted the part of a dictator?"

"The entire Shindle case was rammed down our throats!" she countered. "Guilty because _The Great_ Harry Potter said he was guilty, without the public ever getting to see any shred of evidence!"

"Did you really want to see what he did to those little girls?" Harry asked pointedly.

Thrope turned and glared. "I wanted proof that he actually did it!"

"You mean aside from his _veritaserum_ confession and the memories he provided?"

"Under duress!"

Harry shook his head. "Madame Thrope, by extracting those memories I saved the lives of five other children Mr. Shindle had abducted. I did not find him guilty, a closed judiciary committee of the Wizengamot did, and the case was closed because his crimes were literally unspeakable. We did not show you evidence because, to be blunt, you were a civic activist and not his legal council nor a member of the Wizengamot."

He sighed and looked at the other members. "However, I'm glad you were elected, because I do not want the advisory council to become a rubber stamp."

He touched the scroll pointedly. "This document puts me in command, and by my command and the appointments of their nations, the other captains as well. However, there are over eighty thousand civilians in the fleet, and hopefully more to come in the form of future generations, and it is only right that they have some self-determination over their own lives. You are their voices. But more than that, I would like this council to also serve as a legislative body."

Mrs. Hooper cleared her throat. "And will you have a separate judiciary? A separate constabulary?"

"No," Harry said. "And here's why. I do not want a situation to ever arise where a civilian police or military force finds itself in opposition to the ship's crew. No matter how well meaning the intent might be behind forming a judiciary or police force, at some point or another, for whatever reasons you want to imagine, the possibility exists. And given that there are only a few feet of titanium and brine water between us and death, any such conflict could easily escalate to a lethal situation."

"You only want your people to have real power," Thrope accused.

"Madame Thrope, are you truly concerned about the power distribution, or are you simply arguing for the sake of arguing?"

Carolyn Huffington's voice was soft, cultured, and piercing. The former regent and mother of five met Thrope's angry glare head on. "This document was signed by the magical heads of states for four countries. Secretary Courtier gave his life so that we could escape, and said on the very day of his death that he had full faith in Admiral Potter. It's one thing to argue with legitimate abuse of power, it's quite another to pick a fight for the sake of fighting."

"Don't you dare lecture me you…"

"Enough," Captain White said, slamming his hand on the table. He looked right at Argenta Thrope with a hard glare. "The council is what it is. Your roles are what they are. Either take the job, or shut up and get the hell out! No one is making you sit there!"

"If we ever return to Earth, or find another world to colonize, my authority ends the moment people leave these ships," Harry said in the silence that followed the large captain's outburst. "I am not a dictator. I _am_ the commander of three ships carrying the sum total of over ten thousand years of history and the last vestiges of our culture. And I will do whatever I have to do in order to protect the people on these ships. Everything in this treaty is designed to empower me and my captains to serve and protect you, even if it means from yourself. And that will not change."

"Questions of authority aside, what exactly do you want this council to do, Admiral Potter?" the American lawyer, Lauer, asked.

Harry took a breath. "I would like this council to draft a criminal code for all three ships, including potential penalties. We've already had some fights break out, and some cases of domestic abuse. I and the captains have dealt with these cases as we can, but in cases of civilian misconduct I think everyone would rest easier if they had a clear set of laws to follow, with clear punishments to ensure consistency between myself and the other captains."

"And the parameters of these laws?" Hugginton asked.

"That they cannot allow any activity that would threaten the security of the ship itself, or encourage such behavior. That any punishments be appropriate to the crimes, with harsher consequences for repeat offenders, and that capital punishment be reserved for those actions that directly threaten the safety of the ship and whose perpetrators represent a continued risk to the ship. And that the idea of avoiding self-incrimination be tossed. With _legillimancy_ and _veritaserum_ the idea of holding one's silence is ridiculous."

Lauer raised a slim brow in surprise. "You are British, Mr. Potter. I'm surprised to hear you mention capital punishments."

"We can't be a police state," Captain Goldstein said for Harry. "We don't have the resources for prisons. If we have someone who's unstable enough to attempt to damage one of our ships, and who can't be treated for their issues, then we need the option of permanently removing them from the ships. In circumstances such as ours, insanity can't be a defense. A genuinely insane person represents a threat to our very survival."

Harry couldn't have said it better himself.

"We would also like your opinions regarding private use of house elves," Harry said. "Early on, we had family elves stealing food supplies for the whole ship. We warded the supplies off, but the fact that some families have elves in a situation such as ours is…well, it's a bother. I would appreciate your opinions on the matter. Finally, while we can't afford a criminal judiciary, I do think a civil judiciary would be appropriate for mediation and conflict resolution."

And so it went, for the next four hours. Finally, with their assignments made, Harry dismissed the council, sent the captains back to their respective shifts, and stumbled to his cabin in a desperate need to deflate.

Once he stepped inside and locked the door, he found Hermione in their bed, as naked as the day she was born, reading engineering reports. "My God, you're so beautiful," Harry whispered.

"Am I?' she said archly. She smiled but didn't look up from the report she was reading.

"Yes, yes you are." He spent the next hour showing her just how beautiful he thought she was.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Inertia was a powerful thing. With all three ships finally together—with food and shelter available and the risk of radiation a thing of the past—no one, not even Harry, seemed to be in a hurry to make any decisions.

As days turned into weeks, Harry and the rest turned their eyes toward a variety of tasks that let them avoid having to decide where to go. They organized and held the elections for the Admiralty Advisory Council. They tested their new guns and even took short flights around the solar system to either look at other planets or just to test their astronavigation and drive systems.

But at the end of the day, they always returned to Earth.

Much of the inertia was born from exhaustion. In the final months of their stay on Earth, Hogwarts Valley lost four to five people every single day, despite the potions, lead shelters and demron robes. He knew from speaking with the American captains that things were not any better overseas. The survivors of the wizarding world were shell-shocked, much like refugees from war-torn countries. Every person had lost a close friend or loved one, and the losses left the survivors caught up in a wake of melancholic lassitude. They experienced their first suicide within the first week of their escape.

Each of the captains placed large mirrors within the habitats that displayed their surroundings much like drive-in movie theatres. Their trips back to Jupiter or Saturn resulted in huge crowds sitting in the grassy shores by the lake to watch the alien worlds as if they were movies.

But when they returned to Earth, every night cycle on the ship, people would gather and stare hungrily at the earth they circled in a high orbit under _disillusionment._ Harry was absolutely certain that, under notice-me-not and privacy charges, several children were conceived on the lawn staring up at the Earth.

It was entirely possible that Harry's and Hermione's first child was conceived there. If so, they were in good company.

Harry came back to the cabin on June 30th after a record 12 hour public hearing on the proposed criminal code. The entire way back he'd considered whether or not it was a mistake to hold a public referendum on the laws the Council had drafted. He then asked himself if Argenta Thrope would have just leaked the laws in an effort to force his hand regardless. The woman seemed to have a personal grudge against Harry and the entire admiralty, and enough followers to make things dicey if they ever tried to remove her from the council.

He got back home to the smell of pot roast and potatoes and knew something big must have happened. The still fragile economy of the ship was based mainly on a food credit system Padma had created. Within this system, the stored beef they had was as expensive as gold had been on Earth.

The small kitchen their cabin had was itself a luxury of rank, since most of the crew had to eat in one of the two galleys in the ship's core. The civilians had shared cafeterias in the habitat areas—again to ensure an even distribution of food. Even Padma admitted it was a temporary solution to the problem of currency, but for the past month it had helped iron out some of the problems of some areas having too little food, while others had too much.

"Hermione, what's going on?"

She emerged from the bedroom in a beautiful, slimming red dress that she filled to the seams and more. Her whole face glowed as she rushed forward and took his hands.

"I felt like doing something special," she gushed as she led him inside. She closed and warded their door with a few adept flicks of her wand before she led him to the table with a small pot roast waiting for him surrounded by vegetables with a thick brown sauce. A bottle of red wine chilled in a silver bucket, while candles lit the darkened room.

"Did I forget our anniversary?" Harry asked suspiciously. "Birthday?"

"Shush," she said with a smile as she helped him out of his half-jacket. "Sit and eat. I have a nice pudding for afters."

However suspicious he might have been, Harry wasn't about to turn down the first bit of beef he'd had in over five months. So, he sat with his wife and ate until his stomach ached, and had a few more bites beside because it was just so good. And when they were done with dinner and a plate of delicious pudding, she stood and led him not to their bedroom, but one of the three closets.

Only, as Harry stepped in, it wasn't a closet any more. The space had been expanded to a sizable bedroom, with a standalone wardrobe, a modern wooden crib/toddler bed and a luxurious-looking glide rocker. The walls were painted a gentle, soothing mauve color.

"What…?" Harry looked down at his wife's glowing face, mouth agape. "But…but…you said…but…"

"We're having a baby, Harry."

Harry stopped trying to put words to what he was feeling, because he realized there were no words. Instead, he kissed her and held her tight, and tried to control the raging fear that suddenly blossomed in his chest.

They had no world to live on. Their child would not be a child of earth.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Hermione suffered from morning sickness. Although, as she pointed out acidly, it was not strictly related to morning. In point of fact she could be sick or nauseous at any point during any given day. Andromeda recommended she eat small snacks throughout the day, and avoid any trigger foods that set her off.

Still, it quickly burnished any romantic ideals of pregnancy Harry might have had. When Hermione felt bad, her humor quickly deteriorated, making not just his life, but the lives of all those around her, miserable.

"It's like she can't stand anyone to be happy if she can't be," Daniel Webber complained to Harry during one of their weekly staff meetings that Hermione had missed because of a medical exam.

"She just doesn't handle illness well," Harry assured the brow-beaten wizard. "She was the same way as a teenager."

A few seats down, where she was taking notes, Parvati snorted. "Tell me about it. Any time she caught a sniffle, all of us in the dorm suffered."

"Do you remember when she had that flu pox fourth year?" Padma asked her twin. "Merlin's beard, I swore Professor Vector was going to kick her out of class!"

"Still, she has been helpful in one area we were all concerned about," Doctor Barnes said.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

The older woman shrugged. "Pregnancy outside of Earth. While for Muggle women the effect is less pronounced, for witches our menstrual cycle is strongly influenced by the lunar calendar. There was a concern that leaving the Earth would impact reproductive cycles."

"Has it?" Harry asked, alarmed. "I mean, were Hermione and I an exception to the rule?"

"No," Barnes said. "We've had two hundred pregnancies reported since we left Earth. I'll grant that's a lower rate or pregnancies than we would have hoped for, but people are getting pregnant. What I would like to do is begin a long-term study on all witches to track menstruation."

"Do the medical staffs of the other ships agree?" Harry asked.

"It's a concern for everyone," Barnes said. She grinned. "Plus, I trained most of them. We just need your sign off."

"You have it, volunteers only, though. If anyone objects, for whatever reason, please leave them out."

Barnes shrugged. "Fair enough."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Lily Catherine Potter was born on February 3rd, 2012, at 3 a.m. Greenwich Mean Time, 36,000 kilometers above the Earth. She announced herself with a shrill, healthy cry and a spurt of urine on Andromeda Tonks, as if to say she was going to be pissing over the whole world as soon as she was able.

Harry wanted to say she was beautiful—instead she had a strange, cone-shaped head, a smashed red face that made her look like an angry tomato, and only a few odd strands of brown hair. She wasn't beautiful like the pictures of babies Harry had seen. And yet, holding her for the first time after the midwife finished cleaning her, Harry loved her with every iota of his being.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Hermione whispered a she took their daughter to her breast for the first time.

Harry's throat choked as he lied, "Yes." And then he realized he wasn't lying. As ugly a pug as the baby was, she was still absolutely beautiful because she was _theirs._ Looking down at his wife and child, Harry suddenly understood what beauty really meant.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

On Saturday, April 21st, 2012, Harry, Hermione and their daughter went for a walk in Avalon. A gentle breeze blew across the footpaths between the apartment homes that housed most of their population. There were five such settlements spaced across the habitat dome between orchards of dwarf trees, or the clumps of normal-sized trees that helped regulate not just the oxygen content, but even the micro-weather patterns that the habitat experienced.

It was not unusual for clouds to form over the lake at the far end of the dome sixteen miles away and cycle toward the low end, shedding rain as the clouds ran out of sky. The cycle was so consistent, in fact, that the agricultural crews did not even have to provide irrigation for any of the food or recreational crops.

Which meant the best time to walk was in early evening, after the afternoon showers had exhausted themselves. A few wisps of clouds still streaked overhead across sunstones, which had been tinted to simulate gentle moonlight. The air felt cool without being cold, and as they walked Harry could only shake his head in wonder that he and his wife had played such a large role in completing this magical place.

Their walk as always took them away from the settlement toward the lake, where the large mirror showed them a view of the Earth. With the multitude of telescopes on the _Invincible_ , it was easy for Patterson or whoever was on the bridge to zoom in on any given area of Earth.

The usual crowd was there, Harry saw, but noticed from their expressions that something was wrong. He quickly looked through the crowd until he saw a familiar face. "Neville!"

Neville and his very pregnant wife both turned at his voice. "Harry, have you seen this?"

He pointed to the mirror, and Harry followed his gaze. The mirror was focused on what looked like the west coast of California. Only once he focused, though, did he see why so many people were gasping and covering their faces in despair.

The entire coast of California was sliding into a boiling sea. Nor was the destruction limited to just California. It appeared as if Hawaii had exploded so violently the ash cloud looked like a scar on the face of the planet.

"Oh my God," Hermione whispered. "It's started. It's finally started."


	15. Survivor's Guilt

A/N: Chap 14 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks all for reading. And a reminder than when Apolline gave her speach about where they were going, she did so to the Command Staff only. As you might imagine with a decision like leaving Earth forever, they need to sell it to the public.

* * *

 **Ch** **apter Fifteen: Survivor's Guilt**

April 22, 2012

Lily fussed a little until Harry handed her over to Hermione. His wife of three years threw a nursing towel over her shoulder, propped the almost three month old baby on her crossed legs and arms, and began to feed her without any hesitation, despite sitting on a blanket charmed to be water-proof in the middle of a lawn surrounded by thousands of other people.

On a charmed mirror expanded to be the size of a drive-in movie theater, they were watching a tidal wave so tall it swept over the Himalaya mountains in China as if they were coastal beaches. It was the second day since the earthquakes and volcanism started on Earth, and for two straight days, nearly everybody on board watched as the planet of their birth died.

Harry knew that on the bridge of the ship, their Muggle communication equipment was receiving desperate cries for help from all around the world. He also knew that such help was not coming. All he or anyone else could do was simply watch as the world ended.

The Yellowstone super caldera was visible even without the aid of telescopes. What remained of California was also enveloped in fire as the Long Valley Super Caldera had turned the southwestern states into a shimmering lake of molten lava.

Indonesia was gone, blasted away when the Toba caldera cracked the entire landmass in half, only to have the oceans swallow it. New Zealand and Japan did not fare any better, falling victim to their own super calderas. But most stunning were the tidal waves sweeping over the land. In mere hours, the ice caps began to break apart and the sudden rise in water, combined with the violent tectonic activity, was devastating.

An hour ago, Harry thought he could see the southern cost of India actually move, and the waves that movement set off were mind-numbing, especially given the sheer amount of water the melting icecaps had poured into the oceans of the world.

So he sat on a blanket next to his wife and infant daughter, like thousands of others around him, and watched the Earth die.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

In the semi-darkness of the third shift, Harry walked the halls of the _Invincible_ in silence. At this hour, there were very few people moving about. Those that were did so for a reason, and moved briskly to their various posts. This was especially true when they saw the admiral walking quietly, wand in hand. Hermione and Lily were back in their cabin, sleeping soundly, but Harry gave up on sleep and so he walked.

From what they were able to determine, the Muggle ark ships managed to survive the cataclysm and were now sailing a world ocean. The only exposed land had either been swept clean by floods or drowned in volcanism. The world whole world was covered in an ocean that stretched unbroken across the equator.

Somehow, others outside the arks survived. At least three ocean liners had survived, as had a French missile frigate. Using the telescopes, they found a few survivors in the far northern reaches of Canada and Russia, but they were the exceptions. With the world devastated as it was, their long-term chances of survival were slim.

Most importantly, though, a portkeyed probe revealed a world so thoroughly saturated with what Dr. Barnes was now calling _M-_ radiation that even entering the atmosphere in demron and lead paint would lead to death in minutes.

"The probe's magic burned away in about thirty minutes," Padma explained to the staff that afternoon. "In that thirty minutes, there was no decay rate. So, even if we assume a best case scenario and say the decay rate was in hours, it would still take years for the earth to be habitable for us. In reality, though, the decay rate is probably days or even months and years. It might be a century or two before it is safe for any magical being to go down there."

"Why isn't the radiation affecting mundane humans?" Captain White asked, sounding almost angry.

"It probably is," Barnes told them. "However, not in a meaningful way. There might be a slight increase in mutations and cancers, but the radiation seems to operate on the same wavelength as magic. Think of it as the opposite of how exposure to extreme magical environments can cause long-term harm to mundane humans. We don't fully understand why or how—it's almost as if the Earth itself rejected us. But regardless, we can't go back any time soon."

 _We can't go back_. Barnes' words rang in Harry's head repeatedly as the days passed, robbing him of sleep and peace of mind that he should have had every time he rocked his little girl to sleep. So, he walked and walked.

Eventually he made his way to the fore access hatch that led down into the habitat. Normal entry and exit was made by a magical lift at the far side of the habitat where the land rose closest to the ship core. A lift gave easy access to a secure screening room. It was built just outside the danger zone where the gravity and inertial dampening effects did not extend.

But on the other side of the ship, Harry could sit on the edge of the hatch and stare down four straight kilometers to the massive lake which provided most of the habitat's fresh water. Under the soft blue glow of the night-tinted sunstones, he could be looking down at a typical English countryside from his broom.

Although, really, he didn't fly four klicks high very often.

He couldn't say how long he was there, staring down at the miniature world he and Hermione had created, when his brooding was interrupted. "It is quite breathtaking, isn't it?"

Harry blinked and looked up from the hatch to see Cassandra Appolline shuffling toward him. She had a heavy shawl over her shoulders from the chilly air that rose up from the night-time habitat, and carried in her hand a closed clay container that steamed slightly. "Chamomile tea?"

"No, thank you," Harry said. "What are you doing up?"

"Oh, I try not to sleep if I can help it," she said breathily as she sank cross-legged near the hatch. He noticed she did not get too close, however. "A mild fear of heights," she confessed. "I fell down a ravine when I was little. Odd how our childhood experiences shape our adult perceptions, isn't it?"

Harry could only nod. He must have dozed off because he felt groggy—so much so that he inched back from the edge himself. "You saw all this coming?"

She shrugged. "I saw death everywhere I looked," she admitted sadly. "Every person I saw, their fate hung over them in a cloud. I thought I was going mad, really, until your dear wife contacted me. The moment I held the invitation and portkey to visit you, I saw it all clearly for the first time. Almost every vision I'd had since I was a child suddenly made sense. I do believe I passed out."

She sipped her tea and stared down the hatch. "People had to see, Harry."

He blinked tiredly and looked back at her. "What?"

"We've been floating around the earth for over a year now, Harry, doing what?"

They left Earth in January of 2011, and it was now April 2012. Not only had his little girl been born in space, she'd been conceived and gestated there as well. "Why?" he asked himself.

"Because people had to see for themselves." Cassandra sipped her tea again. "It is a hard thing to leave the only home you've ever known, especially when the only path available is into the unknown."

Groggily, Harry stared at the other woman. There was an ageless quality about her. "How old are you, if you don't mind my asking?"

She giggled, almost in a girlish fashion. "It's not polite to ask a girl's age, Mr. Potter. Now go to sleep. Your wife will be wondering where you are."

Almost as if compelled, Harry stood and left without a word, moving groggily through the various decks of the ship until he reached his cabin. Once inside, he stripped off his clothes and climbed into bed.

"I was wondering where you were," Hermione whispered sleepily as she turned and snuggled into him.

Rather than answer, he snuggled back and let sleep take him at long last.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Harry stood next to Hermione in the Astronavigation room the next morning as the captains and the Admiralty Advisory Council arrived in twos and threes. They found a table of pastries, coffee and tea waiting for them, as well as two long tables set in a V-shape facing the central display area of the center.

"Good morning," Harry said with his public smile. "Please, everyone, help yourselves and have a seat. Doctor Barnes will be here shortly."

In fact, the chief medical officer of the ship arrived two minutes later, accompanied by Andromeda Tonks and Daniel Webber.

"Mr. Potter, can I ask why there was no agenda for this meeting?" Councilman Lauer asked.

"Because we're going to be discussing some sensitive matters that we don't want to put in writing yet," Harry said. "Doctor Barnes, if you would?"

He stepped aside but did not sit down. Barnes nodded briskly and addressed the captains and council members. "We've sent five probes via portkey back to Earth in the past four days. We are trying to measure the decay rate of the _M_ -radiation that has made the world so lethal for our kind. But the magic burned away before we could get any solid readings."

Doctor Webber cleared his throat, nervous to be speaking to strangers despite the fact that it was primarily he who was responsible for developing their drive systems. "We got around the issue by magic-proofing a gamma ray spectrometer and portkeying it down. Using that, we were able to get a good soil sample, and from that determine a projected decay rate for the _M_ -radiation."

"The Earth will not be inhabitable for magical beings for over a hundred and fifty years," Barnes said bluntly. "There is no going home, not within the lifetimes of ourselves, our children or their children after."

"And that's why we're here," Harry said quickly, as the realization sank in to the horrified faces of the councilors. "Ms. Appolline?"

Behind them, the display flared to life with magical glamours of such exquisite details it felt and looked as if they were gods staring down into the heavens below. Cassandra did not appear before them, but her voice echoed around them.

"I have seen our path," she said. The display began to shift and move as a red line shot away from Earth, piercing the solar system and shooting into the fast emptiness beyond just like what what she shared with the command staff so many months before. "With ships that can travel many times faster than light, destinations that were unthinkable become not only possible, but desirable."

They all watched, entranced, as the line flew through the surrounding stars and worlds—past nebula and alien solar systems by the hundreds, until the line finally flew past all the mapped stars into unknown space, until it finally came into a series of interlocking rings that shone in brilliant white against the black. As the glamour resolved itself, Harry saw five separate stars—two sets of binary starts with a third red giant orbiting outside one of the binary systems. The two binary systems and fifth red giant all orbited each other in a wildly complex five-star system, again just like what she'd shown the command staff before.

"The Cyrannus System," Cassandra said, her voice breathless with muddled emotion. "Our future begins there."

"How do you even know about this place?" Howard Crenshaw, the Texan, said in a thick drawl. "Seems to me that's so far away you could just be pullin' it out your ass."

"We could get there in six to twelve months depending on how many course corrections we have to make," Hermione said confidently. "Based on what Cassandra has shown us, we believe Cyrannus is roughly twenty-five hundred light years away. At full power, we could reach in in 93 days, actually, but it takes time to accelerate safely. We would want to be well clear of the Ort Cloud before we try accelerating to anywhere near our full speed."

"Why tell us this now?" Thrope asked angrily. "Why didn't you tell us this a year ago?"

"Because you weren't ready," Harry said, meeting the woman's violet gaze squarely. "The people weren't ready. _I_ wasn't ready. We couldn't go, until all of us knew for sure there was nothing to go back to."

"I think we're going to have to talk about this," Bill Weasley said hesitantly. "It's a big step."

"You're right," Harry concurred. "And it's a step we have to make. You are the voice of the people, and this is one decision I would like us to make together. So, please consider it. I would appreciate it if you keep it to yourselves until a decision has been made, then we can discuss it with each population as a unified voice."

"Do we…do we have any other possible locations?" Madeline Hooper asked.

"Nothing within range of our mapping," Hermione said. "We can certainly stop and look at any interesting worlds, but our astronavigators feel strongly that Cyrranus is our best bet to start."

"Thank you all for your time," Harry said in dismissal.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

One month later, after town-hall meetings and official declarations in the ship's log, the _Invincible_ , _Franklin_ and _Columbia_ broke orbit from Earth. Harry stood on the bridge with Captain Patterson, sipping a strong black tea. Hermione and Daniel were in each of their respective lodestone rooms, dividing the staff of technomages between them.

They had crew members in the habitats as well with communication mirrors to monitor any fluctuations in gravity, and to keep the foolish away from the danger zones in the very edges of the habitat zones.

"We've broken orbit," Ginny Weasley announced from her station. Of course, the display mirror confirmed her words as the Earth noticeably began to shrink.

"All systems operating normally," another crew member announced. " _Columbia_ and _Franklin_ are both matching speed and trajectories."

Patterson snorted. "I would hope so. Those men just can't drive."

The crew laughed at the joke, Harry included. He looked to a mirror set to the side over Ginny's station that showed not space, but the astronavigation display. In his many hours of study while taking the occasional third shift watch, he'd read how space travel was really an exercise in geometry and curves, since all courses were established in relationship to the sun.

The Waterstone Drives, as they still called the system, made that navigational approach moot. The ships moved effortlessly away from the sun's gravitational pull and soared free. In the main mirror, they saw only a vast field of stars staring to blur slightly red. In the display by Ginny, they moved through the vast emptiness between the planets, setting a course through the solar system that avoided every heavenly body.

As if reading his mind, Patterson manipulated her own controller and switched the main viewing mirror from a scene outside to the same view Ginny had. "Speed?"

"We're at three quarters light now," Ginny announced. "Accelerating to twenty-five percent power…now."

Harry felt nothing—within the folds of their secondary lodestones, no one felt as the ship surged not just past the speed of light, but three times the speed.

"Take us to thirty-five percent power and hold," Patterson ordered.

"Aye aye, captain."

Beside Harry, Hermione snorted. "Ginny loves saying that."

Ginny looked over her shoulder and winked at her old friend. "Captain, we are holding steady at 78.125 _C_. Estimate time to inner Ort Cloud at three hours. _Columbia_ and _Franklin_ have matched course and speed."

With the new calibrations Hermione and Daniel established after their first flights, the crew had a much better understanding of how to not just estimate their speed, but to control it. "Can we see them, Captain?"

Patterson glanced back at Harry and grinned. "Yes, Admiral, I believe we can. Navigation, can you get a visual lock on _Columbia?_ "

The main screen blinked again, and Harry found himself looking at raging ball of…not quite fire, but definitely hot energy. The sheer amount of energy their velocity caused created a bow of high energy plasma that streaked like fire along the curves of the Alcubierre warp fields that propelled the ship. However, the image itself appeared to be obscured by occasional flickers of white plasma.

"I gather that's our own energy bow-wave making the flicker?" Harry asked.

"Yes, it is," Hermione said.

Harry could only shake his head in amazement and take his wife's hand.

They stayed on the bridge for the next few hours, until Ginny announced, "Captain, astronavigation is predicting the first Kuiper Belt Objects coming up fast."

"Acknowledged. Reduce power to twenty-percent."

This time Harry did feel a slight shudder under his feet as the ship abruptly slowed from almost 80 times faster than light to just 62 percent of light. On the main mirror, they saw again only a vast field of stars, now only tinged with red. "Nearest KBO?"

"Two million klicks," Ginny reported dutifully.

"That seems so far away, why bother slowing down?" the mirror operator said from the back of the room.

"Because our drive system operates like two artificial black holes," Hermione explained. "If we flew through the Ort cloud at light speed, the gravitational disturbances would send rock and comets flying everywhere. Some would even follow in our wake. Plus, at that speed we wouldn't be able to see an object coming. Even a fist-sized rock would have the power of a nuclear bomb at relativistic speed."

The mirror went suddenly white, but only for a moment. "What the hell was that?" Patterson asked.

Ginny frowned in confusion before looking up. "Er, I think something hit us, Captain."

Harry stood, but Patterson was already at Ginny's station. Hermione joined them. As they spoke, Ginny brought up a another mirror view from the side of the ship and played the footage back on the monocular system that recorded everything for twenty-four hours.

Harry saw it suddenly too—a white flash. Ginny slowed the playback down until it became a small, barely perceptible dot that suddenly flashed across the contours of the Albucierre field like a bug against a windshield.

"What were you saying about fist-sized objects?" Patterson asked Hermione.

"Imagine what would have happened if we were going light-speed," Hermione said.

"I'm thinking the bow wave would have vaporized it," Harry said. "It's the large objects we have to worry about, right?"

"Right," Hermione said. She didn't sound very sure of herself. "Even so, I don't think we should go faster than this. It'll take a while, but I think it's better to take our time. After all, it's not a race."

"So how long to clear the Ort Cloud at this speed?"

Ginny shrugged. "About a month."

Harry sighed. "Right. Then I suppose I'm not going to be able to use it as an excuse to get out of the next council meeting."

"Sorry, Harry," Ginny said. "I mean, Admiral, sir."

Harry chuckled, squeezed Hermione's hand and left the bridge. The ship was in good hands, he decided.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Harry couldn't point to exactly when he became a banker. Over the year they orbited the earth, the small, self-contained economy of the three ships just seemed to happen spontaneously. Padma's food credits became a _de facto_ currency, being broken down into smaller units of currency. Light coins made of rune-locked, permanently transfigured pecan shells began to trade hands in lieu of products and services.

And because the crew controlled the food for the entire ship, and the value of the currency was based on food, Harry in essence became the banker. Given that ship's elves (including those the Council eventually voted to seize for the public good) prepared one full meal every day in a free cafeteria for those who wanted it, the food vouchers could be saved and used for other things. Within a few months of Padma introducing them, direct barter of goods and services had shifted to the exchange of the new currency.

Once they established that the vanishing cabinets worked even while the ships were in motion, people even established inter-ship trade. For instance, the American ships had cotton, flax and olive crops, crops Harry's people overlooked.

The Americans wanted to use dollars and cents, but in this case the economy of scale won out. There were more people on _Invincible_ than on the American ships, plus there was a certain symmetry in calling a coin made from a transfigured pecan shell a knut.

They had to recruit a few specialists, but they set up a relatively stable, static economy in which there was no danger of any one person becoming a billionaire, but also little danger of anyone starving in the streets.

Harry only thought of this because he was desperately searching in his pocket for a knut to buy a chocolate frog for Hermione. They might have survived the end of the world, but if they had neglected sugar cane and dwarf cacao trees and had to make due only with stored chocolate, the magical races might very well perish.

However, because there was no economy of scale, all chocolate was made by hand, which meant a chocolate frog was worth three loaves of bread. On the other hand, technically Harry controlled the bank, so he decided he could afford to get his wife a treat. Lily gave a happy, excited squeal when she saw the frog try to jump out of her daddy's hand.

He found the knuts, paid the chocolatier who smiled not at him, but at Harry's happy daughter, and looked to the next customer. Harry, meanwhile, pushed Lily's stroller toward the cafeteria. Though he didn't have to, on his off-duty days he liked to come take a public meal just so people could see him. Sometimes they would come up and ask questions, other times they would just join him and talk about the weather, which changed only when the ship accelerated or decelerated because of the small pockets of unprotected space at the extreme ends of the habitat. Harry also made a point of changing which habitat he ate in—either the primarily British one of Avalon, or in the French one of Broceliande.

Hermione joined him when she could, but now that their lives depended on experimental and mostly untested techmagery, she was as driven by work as he used to be.

He sat and soon had a vegetarian sandwich and chips in front of him. He gave a few chips to Lily, who giggled happily as she started gumming them. Her green eyes were a mirror image of his own, but her head of bushy black hair seemed to be the worst of both her parents.

But also like her parents, Lily seemed determined to advance. She was already able to roll from her back to her stomach and kick in a semblance of locomotion. And she was able to eat soft foods like chips without choking. He considered giving her a piece of the chocolate, but decided it would be too much for her still.

But boy the chips made her happy. After she managed to keep a third of it in her mouth to swallow, he finished her snack up with a bottle while he ate with the other hand. He looked up at a shadow just in time to see Andromeda Tonks sit down.

"Hey, Teddy!" Harry said to the green-haired teenage who was walking beside his grandmother. "I haven't seen you for ages, buddy. How are you?"

"Okay, I guess," his godson said with typical teen eloquence. He sat with a huff, and then looked over his shoulder. "Come on, short stuff."

Harry watched as the very-blonde, three-year-old Scorpius "Donald" Malfoy toddled to the bench beside his much older cousin. "I want chips," he announced imperiously.

Harry couldn't look at the boy without feeling a stab of guilt. It wasn't just that Harry caused the deaths of his parents—he killed the boy's father personally, and personally condemned his mother.

"He's doing fine," Adromeda said softly.

With a blink, Harry realized he'd been staring at the boy and covered it up by lifting Lily into his lap, bottle and all. "He looks healthy."

"Children adapt very quickly," Andromeda said. "He was not even two yet when Astoria brought him and a handful of other children to the ward line."

Harry didn't even remember when that happened—Davin Proudfood had taken care of everything, as the head auror should have. In fact, he didn't even know for sure that he had a Malfoy or a Greengrass child on board until after they launched.

Still, the boy seemed to get along with his cousin. And though Teddy was going through a phase, Harry had spent enough time with him to know he would be a very good role model for Donald to follow (since not even Andromeda chose to call him Scorpius).

He was about to say more when he felt a vibration in his pocket. The new crew badges carried the most advanced _protean_ charms Hermione knew, and were a culmination of nearly sixteen years of study on the subject.

He read the scrolling message in the communications square next to his picture before smiling and slipping it back into his pocket. He then looked around as a low rumble ran through the ground. People stopped in their tracks and stared around in alarm, but Harry stood and said,

"Ladies and gentlemen, let me be the first to congratulate you on being the first beings to travel beyond the solar system. We have cleared the last of the Ort Cloud and have accelerated to full speed."

He sat back down, having done his civic duty. "So, have fast are we going, Uncle Harry?" Teddy asked. It was easier than calling Harry 'Godfather'.

"We're going almost ten thousand times faster than light."

Teddy's eyes widened. "Wow."

"Right in one. We're now deep space travelers, just like in Star Trek."

His hair flashed red. "Just don't make me wear a red shirt, Harry."

Harry made a show of taking a slow bite of his sandwich and bouncing Lily. He winked at Andromeda and said, "I'll think about it."


	16. Alone in the Black

A/N: Chap 15 review responses are in my forums like normal. Please note the dates. Rather than detail the long, rather uneventful inter-stellar voyage, I've chosen to do another time-jump.

* * *

 **Chapter Sixteen: Alone in the Black**

August 3rd, 2013

A badge buzzed loudly. Harry moaned and rolled over in bed, hoping it was just a dream, but the buzzing returned even louder. It would continue to get louder and louder until it would wake Lily, which was actually Harry's idea in the first place.

 _Yep, he was an idiot._

"Is that yours or mine?" a groggy, very pregnant Hermione said.

"Mine, I think."

"Then answer it." Groggy and pregnant were not good combinations for Hermione; it took very little to make her unhappy. And after almost five years of marriage Harry had learned the secret behind a happy marriage—keep the wife happy. And if that wasn't possible, mitigate the wife's anger to any extent humanly possible. If that didn't work, blame someone else.

He reached over to his end table and lifted the badge, staring groggily at it. "We've come to a full stop," he read, not entirely understanding the context yet. It had been a long night with a sick Lily, and he was going on only a few hours of sleep. "Finnegan found something. Wants me on the bridge."

"Okay." With that, Hermione rolled back onto her side and went back to sleep.

Harry considered giving her a kiss, but realized that rather than appreciate the gesture, she would be irritated for him waking her again—another pearl of wisdom he'd picked up over the past few years.

So, he padded into their small bathroom, took his allotted time in the shower, dressed in his ship's uniform and paused just long enough to check on Lily. His thirteen-month-old was sound asleep on her stomach, with her diapered behind sticking straight up into the air and her mop of fuzzy black hair rising almost as high. The odd strain of flu making its way through the ship did not respond to pepper-up potion, but there were a few other potions that could at least ease the symptoms. Lily was already getting better after only a week. Unfortunately, not everyone responded as well—there had been a handful of deaths, especially among the population that was weakened most by the radiation in those final days on Earth.

Merlin, he loved his little girl. Even the thought of losing her made his eyes water.

The third shift was just coming to an end when Harry finally made his way to the bridge of the ship. Seamus Finnegan was sitting on the edge of his seat, filling in for the sick third watch commander.

"What do you have for me, Seamus?" he asked as he walked in—clutching strong black coffee rather than tea.

"Nothin' much, Harry. Just some aliens and such."

Seamus had a particularly Irish sense of humor, so it took Harry a moment to stare at the main view mirror to realize that his old friend and dorm mate was not joking.

There were alien spaceships floating ahead of them.

"Status?" Harry asked, instantly awake.

"All three ships are _disillusioned_ and at full stop," Seamus reported, now also all business. "We're holding station at five thousand meters."

Harry stepped down from the admiral's platform and walked to one of the empty stations—the third shift was not fully staffed, again because of that damned flu. He thought to bring it up at the next flag meeting to require inoculations for all staff.

Fortunately, after two and a half years on the ship, Harry was fairly familiar with and comfortable using all the stations except the piloting station. He just didn't trust himself with the engines. Manipulating a combination of computer keyboard and runic stone arrays, he zoomed onto the alien ships.

He counted fifteen in all—some as long as three hundred meters, others as short as fifty. All of them had a certain bulkiness to them—most appeared to be modular, and at least three were almost identical in make, but of different lengths due to differing numbers of modules.

"We can't detect any energy coming from them," Seamus said. "No running lights, no propulsion. They're just floating there, clumped together."

In fact, that's exactly what had happened. The ships had clumped together in a loose ball, with no discernable, single orientation. They looked like derelicts that had simply floated together. Several had what looked like script—Harry used one of the ship's telescopes until the script dominated the mirror. "What the hell kind of writing is that?"

"Don't know. Computers don't either."

Harry leaned back and stared at the alien craft. "They look…"

"Regular," Seamus said.

And that was just it. They looked like something Harry could see at Portsmouth or any other sea port—big, bulky craft made to move things around. Only, instead of water these ships moved things through space.

"Betty, where are we in relation to Cyrannus?" Harry asked.

The third shift navigator sat in Ginny's chair across the bridge and moved with an economy of movement Harry could only admire. He might have been comfortable at most stations, but he wasn't as good as those who used the equipment for hours a day.

In moments the view of the alien ships changed to a depiction of local space. Dominating the screen was the outer Ort cloud of the Cyrranus system. The huge, billowing ball of dust and ice reached out several thousand times wider than the Solar Ort cloud had, but only because of the size and complexity of the quinary star system within. They were only two days out from the Ort Cloud, and if they slowed to get through the cloud like they did at earth, only a month or so away from the many planets within.

Harry jumped when a deep, strong voice boomed over their speakers. "Finnegan, is Potter awake yet?"

"I'm here, Malcolm," Harry said to the mirrors. "What do you make of it?"

Malcom looked as tired as Harry felt when his face appeared in the communications mirror at Harry's temporary station, and made a show of rubbing his stubble. The normally shaven man obviously had rushed to the bridge. "I think we're going to have to get a closer look. We need to send someone over there."

Harry couldn't help but nod his agreement. "I'd go myself, but I'm fairly certain my wife would kill me if I tried."

Seamus snorted, but Malcom White actually nodded. "And I would agree with her. Flag officers belong on the bridge. How many of those space brooms did you people build?"

"Three so far," Harry said. "Wake Barry up and come over, I'll get my department heads together and see what we can see."

"Be over in half an hour," Malcolm said.

The mirror image of the other captain faded. Harry turned back and stared at the ships floating in the black. "Damned odd," whispered to himself.

An hour later, Harry helped his wife settle into a heavily cushioned, transfigured chair before sitting himself and looking across at the executive fleet staff—which consisted of the three senior captains and the various department heads that made the whole endeavor possible.

"Well, ET is calling," Harry said dryly. Someone moaned at the joke—he didn't know who. "So, options?"

"I still believe we need to send someone over to do a closer inspection of those ships," White said. "Maybe even go inside."

"Bad idea," Barnes said immediately, almost before White even finished speaking. "A simple influenza virus has almost twenty percent of our population on their backs. Merlin and Morgana only know what kind of diseases those ships may be carrying. We cannot risk exposing this crew to any alien bacteria, viruses or fungi."

The table erupted in uncontrolled argument until Harry rapped his knuckles hard against the table. "Thank you," he said, glaring at his senior staff who were supposed to be above arguing like that. "I happen to agree with you both—Captain White is correct that we can't just ignore those ships, but Doctor Barnes is correct that we can't risk our population. I have a sick little girl in my cabin to remind me of how devastating illness can be. So, options to address both concerns?"

"What about another portkey probe in their ship?" Daniel Webber asked.

Beside him, Padma patted his hand. "We have to know exactly where to send it, dear. What if we send it into a reactor, or into the middle of their hull plating?"

Harry noticed how the young woman glanced surreptitiously at Hermione's increasing girth. He was saddened to hear his friend had been rendered infertile by the _M_ radiation on Earth. In fact, she was part of the twenty six percent of the entire population, male and female, rendered infertile. Worse yet, her sister across the table was fertile but still single.

Hermione cleared her throat. "We can use a sled to send someone in a modified Unspeakable Cloak."

While Captain White called them space brooms because that's exactly what it started out as, the project to make a small, space-worthy vehicle had evolved into something else. The ultimate design looked a lot like the habitat dome, only scaled down to fit on a frame of left-over titanium. It had two fist-sized lodestones, one powerful enough to give the sled some serious acceleration while also providing a surprisingly powerful magnetic field that served to deflect radiation and even small objects, and the other to ensure the first didn't reduce the occupants to paste. So far, they'd built three, using a combination of runes to heat and reinforce the ship from the cold and vacuum of space, and a ball of liquid oxygen and freshening charms to ensure a breathable atmosphere.

"Why an Unspeakable cloak?" Barnes asked.

"Unspeakable cloaks are charmed environmental suits," Hermione said, having worn one in her days in the Department of Mysteries. "They aren't just meant to look mysterious. The cowl serves as protective headwear, providing oxygen and shielding from the environment for when we worked on something particularly dangerous. A cloak, with gloves and boots, could withstand full vacuum for up to an hour."

"Do we have any?" Harry asked.

"We have at least twenty registered Unspeakables between our three ships," Padma noted after a quick glance at a hand pamphlet that Harry was sure had a protean connection to the full Domesday book.

"I guess we know who's going, then," Harry said with a grim smile.

 _~~Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

The three Unspeakables they contacted not only volunteered, but did so eagerly. The two men and one woman were all only few years older than Harry—Hermione knew all three by name. Donald Peastack, Miriam Margoline and Wichard Stoffen brought their own cloaks and looked like children in a playground as Daniel and his staff taught them how to fly and operate the three sleds.

While the three Unspeakables appeared to be very intelligent in how quickly they picked up the controls, Harry worried that they didn't appreciate the seriousness of the mission. "Harry, leave them be," Hermione said. "It's just the way Unspeakables are."

Harry could not help but feel a certain _déjà vu_ in having to watch other people take the lead in experimental craft from the safety of the ship's bridge. Captains White and Goldstein had returned to their respective ships to watch from their own bridges, but Hermione and most of the department heads joined him on the admiral's platform that looked out over the rest of the bridge.

Patterson already had one of the ship's telescopes trained on the three tiny dots that approached the tumbled, clumped ball of derelict ships. She magnified the view until they could make out each sled in detail. The oddly porpoise-shaped craft moved without visible means of propulsion, and broke apart as they approached the clumping. They came close enough to be visibly dwarfed by the ships.

"The script is beautiful," a female voice announced loudly in the bridge. Harry winced at the volume, but restrained himself from asking Margoline to speak softer. "It appears to be a linear script, but I can't tell if it's a syllabic, segmental or even alphabetic in nature. I don't recognize it, regardless of what it is."

"I found a hatch!" Peastack's high-pitched voice boomed through the bridge. "How marvelous! A simple _alahomora_ opened the door for me. Inside appears to be an airlock, since there is another wall right in front of me. I'm heading in!"

Harry opened his mouth but Hermione stopped him with a slight shake of her head and a hand on his arm. "It's what they do, Harry," she whispered. "They may seem dotty, but Unspeakables can take care of themselves."

The telescopic view of the three sleds disappeared, replaced instead by an obviously manufactured interior room with dark gray metal walls lit solely by a _lumos_.

"It appears that the _lumos_ spell works fine in a vacuum!" Peastack shouted enthusiastically, to the chagrin of all those suffering from his volume already. "The outer door has closed. I am egressing from the sled now."

"Did that bloke just say 'egressing'?" Finnegan asked. Technically he wasn't on duty, but Harry didn't fault him for wanting to watch.

"The controls appear to be computerized," Peastack continued. "Unfortunately I cannot read the script, but there are red and blue buttons. I am going to make an assumption that their color systems are similar to ours. Otherwise, I may be floating back to _Invincible_."

The view afforded from his charmed cowl showed a gloved hand reaching for the blue button. Everyone in the room tensed, only to relax when they heard a hiss of air, followed by the heavy, mechanical whine of the inner door rising up.

Unlike the airlock, the interior of the ship appeared to have both gravity and lights, albeit dim lights. Unfortunately, those lights showed a scene of carnage.

"Oh god," Hermione whispered as she covered her face with her hands.

Through the mirror charms on Peastack's cowl, they could see several bodies laid out on the floor, some covered by sheets, others left bare to stare with sunken, death-stricken eyes at the floor. "I have disillusioned myself," Peastack said, his voice suddenly muted and somber. "I believe I saw motion in a corner of the room. The temperature is a few degrees above freezing. Based on that, I would say the bodies are perhaps a week to ten days old. I count ten bodies. All appear to be human, four women, three men and two children. All appear to have been killed by Muggle-style firearms, judging from the visible entry wounds. Wait…someone is coming."

The watched through Peastack's cowl as a small, shadowy figure appeared from around a stack of metal crates and walked hesitantly toward the bodies. As it came into the dim overhead lights, Harry felt his chest constrict as he saw a boy of six or seven years old. He looked perfectly human, but very thin, with sunken cheeks and a haunted look in his eyes.

The boy walked to one of the fallen women and then simply sat down next to the body and started talking, while a tear ran down his cheek. They could not understand what he was saying, but in Harry's mind it was whatever a young, orphaned boy would say to his dead mother.

"Doctor Barnes," Harry said in a thin, controlled tone. "Please set up a quarantine room in the ship's core large enough to hold however many passengers may be on those ships."

"We don't even know for sure they're human," Barnes pointed out. "Surface similarities don't mean that they are genetically similar."

"Samantha, it doesn't matter of he's human or not," Hermione said with a tear in her eyes. "Not to Harry. Just do it, please."

"This is not a…"

Harry spun and glared. "Do it!" Barnes reared back as if slapped, and if Harry were not blazing with rage at what he'd just witnessed, he'd realize that his magic was flaring.

From the speakers overhead, Peastack said, "I have cast a reveal spell and determined there are fourteen people still alive on board this ship including the boy. I would hazard a guess that none of them have eaten well since this…this massacre occurred. The ship appears to have only minimal power not by choice, but by necessity. Perhaps this is a result of piracy, but regardless these people are in need of assistance."

Harry, having regained a semblance of control, said, "Patch me through to him."

"You're on," Patterson said.

"Peastack, this is Potter. We are going to prepare a quarantine room for the survivors. Can you expand the interior of the sled to accommodate them?"

"Easily done, Admiral. However, given the circumstances, I feel it would be safer for everyone if I were to stun them first."

"Can you do so safely?"

"With the shape they're in, they may not even notice."

"Alright, do what you have to do. We'll let you know when the quarantine area is ready to receive them."

With that, Harry stood and left the bridge, walking on stiff legs. When he was gone, Patterson turned and looked at his wife. "What was that about?"

Hermione stood unsteadily due to her girth. "Dinah, if there's one thing Harry knows about, it's what it feels like to be an abandoned orphan. I'll be with my husband if anyone needs me."

~~ _Invincible~~_

 _~~Invincible~~_

They chose to use a storage bay that ran along the outer hull on the _Broceliande_ hemisphere of the ship, aft and just two decks above the propulsion lodestone and right next to the aft hatch. Barnes and her staff had already expanded the area and were transfiguring emptied food container crates into beds. Hermione found Harry standing at the door, watching in silence as an equally silent Barnes went about her work.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He looked down at her, before pulling her into a hug. "I'm fine. Shouldn't have lost my temper, really."

"It's okay," she said. "Sometimes Samantha needs a kick in the arse. I think that's true for all us smart women."

He kissed her head. "It'll be a cold day in hell before anyone ever kicks you in the arse, love."

The _Invincible_ only had two exterior hatches where the stabilizing supports originally ran when it was under construction. This was mostly to do with the fact that wizards boarded or exited primarily by portkey or apparition, except for the initial boarding through those hatches. Fortunately, they were more than large enough to receive the sleds as they came in, one by one.

Once the outer doors shut and magically sealed after the first of the sleds to return, Barnes and two of her aids stepped out in medically charmed robes and masks to help unload the first refugees from Peastack's sled. The sled itself looked barely larger than a motorcycle and a side car, albeit one made tall by the porpoise-shaped shell. But when the side hatch opened, the Unspeakable helped levitate out the bodies, one after the other, fourteen in all.

Without hesitation, he climbed back into the sled and portkeyed the sled right out of the ship. Not five minutes later, a second sled arrived, this time piloted by Margoline, who like Peastack immediately climbed out and started levitating bodies. She recovered ten on her trip.

Harry and Hermione stayed out of the way and simply watched. Having won the battle to establish the quarantine room, Harry was wise enough to let Barnes run it. As soon as Margoline left, Wichard Stoffen arrived with twelve refugees from the ship he boarded.

"I wish I'd had people that effective on the auror force," Harry muttered.

Hermione, though, laughed sadly and thought about some of the more exciting aspects of her job. "I think you'd hate having them, Harry. I read a study that said to be a truly good Unspeakable required a certain type of insanity and disregard for their own well-being. Not because of bravery, but because they tend to get distracted."

It took four hours, but sled by sled, the three Unspeakables managed to stun all two hundred and twenty eight survivors in each of the fifteen ships and bring them over to the quarantine lab. Hermione, still by Harry's side, saw sadly that the vast majority appeared to be women and young children, as if someone had culled out the men. Every one appeared starved and stressed, wearing filthy clothes that Barnes and her staff simply vanished and replaced with plain gray hospital robes.

"Can we treat them?" Harry finally wondered. "I mean, do magical treatments work on Muggles?"

"Not with potions. But we have Muggle medical supplies from the stores the Canadians provided," Hermione pointed out. "And all of Barnes' staff have Muggle as well as magical medical training. They're in good hands, Harry."

Finally, the three Unspeakables docked their sleds for a final time, magically sealed the hull, and stepped into the quarantine bay themselves for decontamination. As Hermione watched, however, Wichard Stoffen collapsed to the floor in the heap. Instantly aides jumped to his aide, while the remaining two Unspeakables went through the harsh decontamination wards before stripping out of the heavily charmed robes.

Once they were out into the hall, Harry said, "What happened to Stoffen?"

"Oh, one of the passengers had a gun and shot him," Margoline said with a dismissive wave. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Call us if you need us again."

And without a second glance, the two Unspeakables walked away as if nothing had happened. Harry, stunned, turned to stare at his wife, who shrugged.

"A certain kind of insanity," she said.

Both their badges buzzed. Harry looked down and frowned. "Stay here, please."

Hermione was expecting Harry to run toward the bridge, but whatever it was compelled him to move faster—he disapparated. She looked down at her own badge and tried to control her breathing.

 _New ship appeared. Hostile._


	17. Red Eye

A/N: A slightly abbreviated Chap 16 review response is in my forum. Bit of a rush this morning so feel free to follow up if I didn't get to your question.

* * *

 **Chapter Seventeen: Red Eye**

August 3rd, 2013

"That's a mean looking ship," Ginny Weasley said. She then sneezed in a very un-lady like way.

Finnegan left the bridge during the rescue operation for some sleep after pulling double duty. Dinah Patterson sat in the captain's chair, leaning forward and staring intently when Harry arrived.

Harry saw immediately what Ginny had meant. Whereas something about the construction of the first ships they found looked familiar, this new arrival appeared wildly alien.

A single red light shone from the upper center of what almost looked like a helmet, albeit one that dominated the entire fore of the small vessel. Framing the helmeted hull were two dagger-like, forward-swept wings. At a guess Harry would say the ship was thirty feet long and a little more than half that wide, but very slim in profile. "It doesn't look large enough to hold a pilot," Harry noted aloud.

Patterson looked over her shoulder, having missed his appearance entirely. "I'm not sure it has one."

As they watched, the single ship suddenly started spewing out a stream of what could only be bullets. However, the weapons weren't just ordinary guns because the effect on the derelicts was devastating. The ships exploded or ruptured in quick succession, one after the other.

"What are those?" Patterson asked.

Webber, having never left the bridge, began typing furiously into the computer. "I think they're just hyper-accelerated slugs. They have a similar effect to our railguns, only not quite as large or energetic. Our guns would be more damaging but have a much slower rate of fire."

 _By an order of magnitude_ , Harry thought grimly. "Daniel, what can you tell me about it?"

"It arrived in a flash of light," Daniel said. "Almost like a portkey—if you've ever used a portkey at night, when you first appear there is a small release of light energy that you barely see. It also has…"

"Admiral," Patterson said in alarm. "It's looking at us."

The admiral turned his attention from Daniel and stepped down from the platform. The fighter…thing did appear to be staring right at them as it drifted slowly closer. "Are we _disillusioned_?" Harry asked.

"Yes, but it looks like it can see us anyway!" Suddenly the red eye began moving from side to side in a strange, almost hypnotic fashion.

"Oh crap!" Webber shouted. "Oh crap, oh crap! It's transmitting a signal to our computer systems! It's trying to break through."

"Can it?" Harry asked.

"My mother could," Webber snapped back. "We didn't expect to engage in cyber warfare in the middle of space! This thing's firewalls are off the shelf and barely configured! Oh crap, oh crap, it's…it's eating the firewalls like snacks."

Harry ran to one of the mirrors. "White, Goldstein, the alien craft is attacking us. Destroy it!"

Even as he spoke, a flap opened under one wing to reveal a nerve-racking red missile. "It's almost through!" Webber cried.

A moment later a streak of white-hot, hyper-accelerated conjured lead slashed through the alien ship right beneath the helmeted bow. The blow transferred its massive kinetic energy to the fighter, vaporizing it instantly.

"Daniel, did they get through?" Harry demanded urgently.

Webber shook his head, hands shaking as he typed. "There's a virus embedded in our firewall. It's the nastiest thing I've ever seen." He fumbled for his badge, activated the communications window and shouted, "March and Singleton, get into the mainframe! We have a hostile foreign virus burrowing through our firewalls!"

"Captain Patterson, what's your ship status?" White asked, his face suddenly dominating the mirror.

"We were attacked by a computer virus," she said, glancing briefly at Harry. "I think we should stay put until we isolate it and figure out how to protect ourselves."

"Negative," White said. "Admiral, we need to put some distance between ourselves and those ships!"

"Dinah, I have to agree," Harry said without hesitation. "Captains, move the fleet into the Ort cloud, but stay well under _c_. Also stay close. As soon as we have the virus situation contained, we'll let you know. If we have to come to a stop to deal with it, I'd rather be far away from here. And captains…man your guns."

"No need to tell me twice," White said. The connections ended. Dinah stepped close to Harry as he was turning to leave. "Without a dependable computer system, we risk everything from losing alignment on our inertial dampening systems to navigation," she said in a quiet, urgent tone. Patterson did not like arguing in front of the staff, which Harry appreciated.

Harry also understood her concern, but his gut told him the arrival of that alien ship was just not a coincidence. "Dinah," he whispered back, "that ship showed up within hours of us pulling people off those derelicts. They've been floating out there for days on end, but that thing only shows up an hour after we do. Why do you think that is?"

Dinah Patterson was an intelligent person—she'd have to be to earn the chair over all the other potential captains. She understood immediately, but he could see the conflict on her face—getting them away from a potential trap, or exploding because their computer systems had been compromised.

"Look," Harry said at last. "I understand. Go as slow as you feel comfortable with, just get us away from those ships."

"We'll be crawling."

"Whatever keeps us safe. I trust you, Captain. You set the pace for the others."

With that, Harry left the bridge. Rather than go to the quarantine room, he went looking for the computer bay. It still surprised him that it was Cassandra Appolline who did most of the computer work in the initial design of the ship. But having since learned some of her many skills, it did not surprise him at all to find her there with March and Singleton, the two lead programmers from Webber's group.

The two men were typing away frantically. Like Webber, the two technomages used carbon wands tucked into the breast pockets of their white button-up shirts—there was no sign of their half-jackets. However, Cassandra knelt near one of the refrigerator-sized computers, its front propped open. Half her body was hidden inside.

"What's happening?" Harry asked.

"Oh, the boys are trying to isolate and destroy the virus," the seer said absently as she leaned back the box of the large computer holding a maze of wires.

"What are you doing?"

She chuckled. "Turning off the modem."

"What?"

"The aliens were able to download that virus because we never turned the modem off. All our systems are wired together, but the packet I bought came with built-in wireless servers. And the aliens used that wireless server to upload the virus. So I'm turning it off."

"Just like that?"

"Not every weakness is a mountain," she said. "Aha!"

With a click, she closed the window the alien used to infect them. She then closed the cabinet, walked over to the two frantically typing men, and with a flourish of her wand cast something at the terminals.

"What'd you do?" one of the programmers shouted, before remembering who it was who built the system in the first place.

"Are you wizards or not?" It was the first time Harry heard the woman speak with scorn. "Look at your virus now."

The two young, skinny, slightly unkempt men turned and stared at their monitors in confusion. "It's gone," one muttered.

"When something is contaminated, you decontaminate it," she explained slowly. " _De-taminare._ A medical cleansing spell, if I'm not mistaken. I trust you'll remember it?"

The two programmers melted. "Yes, ma'am." They both spoke like recalcitrant school children.

Meanwhile, Cassandra led Harry out of the lab. "I've never seen you so hard on anyone," he admitted.

"The boys are very nice, but they lack imagination," Appolline said. "They have potential, though. I just have to be firm with them until they understand that being a technomage is not just being a computer programmer, but a wizard who can use magic with computers."

"How old are you again?"

She laughed, an abrupt bark of sound that went as fast as it arrived. "Harry," she said, suddenly somber and distant. "Remember that our future begins in Cyrannus. That does not necessarily mean our journey ends there."

Harry felt a cold knot in his sternum. "What have you seen?"

"A giant red eye, staring down at mounds of death," she said with eyes as distant as her voice. "For the past two weeks, I've been seeing the red eye. I didn't understand, but I think we all will soon."

After an exhausting day, Harry got back to the cabin where he found his godson half asleep in Hermione's rocker with Lily sleeping soundly on his shoulder, while nearby his cousin Scorpius "Donald" Malfoy played with building blocks in the middle of the floor. The boy was approaching five years of age, and to Harry's chagrin looked more and more like his father, with naturally platinum blonde hair, a pale, almost sickly complexion, but his mother's icy blue eyes.

Harry not only felt guilty when he looked at Malfoy's son, he felt sickened by his feeling guilty in the first place because he knew the boy was alert enough to sense Harry's discomfort. It was not fair of him, and made him loathe himself for it, but Harry just couldn't help it. He'd killed this boy's parents.

Even so, not wanting to wake Teddy and Lily, he sank down into a cross-legged position. "What are you doing, Donnie?"

Scorpius didn't look up from his precarious stack of bricks. "Playin'."

Harry pointed to the stack. "What's that?"

"Ogwars," the boy said. "Auntie says Ogwars was the best place."

"It was pretty neat," Harry agreed. "And what's this?"

He pointed to a smaller stack.

"Mummy and Daddy's house," he said.

Harry ruthlessly bit down on the chill he felt. To Scorpius, who was only a toddler when they left, Mummy and Daddy's house was a place of happy memories. To Harry, it was where he had to listen to his wife get tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange for hours on end.

"Play w' me?"

Harry blinked back those horrid memories and found himself looking right into the boy's eyes. This was Malfoy's son—the son of an arch nemesis who made his school years miserable, and who murdered innocent women and children as an adult.

He was also a four-going-on-five year old orphan, desperately reaching out to one of the few adult males he ever saw. Harry's stomach twisted with the realization that he really, really didn't want to play with this boy. But he pushed down the unease and angst. He would not punish Scorpius for his father's actions, no matter how much a selfish part of him wanted to.

Forcing a smile, Harry said, "Okay. What do you want to play?"

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

"What do we know so far?" Harry asked during the next executive staff meeting.

The past three days were the most intense they had experienced since Aurora identified the pulsar whose emissions could have killed them all in an instant if they didn't thread a very careful path around it eight months previous. Barnes' staff had come close to overload trying to treat the aliens in quarantine while also dealing with the flu epidemic, which fortunately appeared to be tapering off with the mandatory use of bubblehead charms, vanishing tissues for the sick and sterilizing charms on their hands.

"They're so close to human as to make any distinctions moot," Barnes said. She spoke in an irritable, snappish tone with one hand half-way through her short blonde hair and a clearly exhausted gleam in her eyes. The woman's hairstyle changed at least four times a year. "In fact, medically speaking they are human."

Around the table, the others stared at each other in confusion.

"But…but…how?" Charlie Weasley asked. With Luna's passing, the second oldest Weasley had taken over the entire preservation department. Not only was he responsible for keeping all of the dormant, sleeping magical creatures alive, but he was also working closely with both Neville and Doctor Barnes herself in breeding animals for new potions ingredients while letting them live in tightly controlled enclosure in the habitats. "I mean, we're the first humans to ever come this far! To even leave Earth! Aren't we?"

"Obviously not," Barnes said. She then took a deep breath and released it with a sigh. "The genetic differences are no more pronounced than the genetic drift between an Englishman and a Thai. There is some genetic drift which makes me believe these people were not born on Earth. Some show evidence of illnesses we've never had, and all of their bodies have mineral traces I can't identify at all on the periodic table. But all but one of them has a latent magical genome. So, we're looking at a group of humans whose ancestors obviously evolved on Earth, probably of magical stock, but were born 3,000 light years away from Earth without any magic."

"No other explanation?" Harry asked carefully.

"We travelled in time by accident and have come in a big circle and are about to land on Earth again?" Barnes offered. She managed not to snap at him, but the sarcasm soured the air around her. The woman sounded as exhausted as she looked.

"Can we communicate with them yet?" Hermione asked.

"They're all pretty shell-shocked, but at least one of them appears to be communicative," Barnes admitted. "Female, approximately thirty-five. Two of the children appear to be hers. The Unspeakable, Margoline, has been working with her. So far we know they have an alphabet, a decimal numbering system, and her named is Brenda Laird."

"Laird?" Padma echoed. "Brenda?"

Barnes shrugged. "That's what the Unspeakable said. I can tell you health wise they were all suffering from starvation and bone loss for the thirty or so people whose ships lost gravity. Hypothermia for some. All appear to have been deeply traumatized and several are showing clear signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. And we have one who appears to have been exposed to radiation and is getting worse—the one without the latent magical gene."

"What can we do?" Harry asked.

Barnes shrugged. "We have her on antibiotics, but we can't identify her blood type so a transfusion is out. In fact, quite a bit about the young woman is odd. We're still investigating, but we'll keep you appraised."

"Is there a risk to the crew?"

Barnes looked Harry in the face. "There is mutual risk. As I said before, they have traces of unknown pathogens. But more important, they are Muggles. Any latent genes they have don't protect them from active magic fields that will make them all sick in a few weeks."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around how there are people this far out," Charlie muttered.

"Modern humans have been around for hundreds of thousand years," Hermione said. "Who's to say that an advanced culture didn't develop before ours and leave the earth for whatever reason?"

"Captain," Harry said, wishing very much to discontinue the conversation. "Where are we in relationship to the system?"

"The Ort cloud is much larger, but less dense than Earth's and scattered around the system's entire hemisphere, rather than limited to any one ecliptic plane," Patterson said. "Now that we're reasonably sure our computers won't try to kill us, I've authorized us to three quarters _C_. We should clear the inner ring in two weeks."

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

An appalled silence hung over the bridge.

They had traversed the galaxy for over a year, heading toward the promise of new worlds to live on. That hope had sustained them every day, Harry included. Every time he looked around his and Hermione's windowless cabin, he dreamed of someday letting his daughter, and soon to arrive son, live under a real sky.

He even dreamed of taking them to parks, or water falls, or climbing mountains together. Of riding brooms together. He dreamed of doing all those wonderful things with his kids that he never got to do with his parents.

The first world they came to appeared yellow with cloud cover, particulate matter, and radiation. A thin, glittering ring of debris circled the world, some in large clumps still recognizable as huge spacecraft. Harry could make out large bodies of water on the world, and even some small patches of forested land, but every single urban area (of which they counted thousands) had been devastated by thermonuclear or neutron bombs.

They knew because, within twenty minutes of the _disillusioned_ fleet's arrival, they spotted a massive, six pronged star-like ship in orbit launch a missile toward the surface. The resulting mushroom cloud bulged up into the outer atmosphere of the planet, pushing away the yellow, poisoned cloud-cover momentarily.

"Any more of the smaller ships?" Patterson asked.

"More?" Ginny shook her head—in the two weeks it took to clear the thinner Ort cloud of the Cyrranus system, she had completely recovered. "Captain, there are so many we can't count them. They're all over the system, swarming like insects. They're in the atmosphere of the planet even with the nukes going off."

"Any coming our way?" Harry asked.

Ginny looked over her shoulder at him with a somber expression. "Aye, Admiral. Looks like they can see through our _Disillusionment_ charm, since we came slow enough not to have a visible bow-wave."

Harry shook his head and sat down, arms cross.

"Carrington, get us out of here," Patterson said with a profound note of disgust. "Back to the Ort cloud, keep us under _C_."

"Yes, captain," the pilot said.

Dinah left her seat and walked to Harry. In a low voice, she said, "How can they see us so easily?"

"We don't know anything about them," Harry said. "They might be able to feel the lodestones like sharks can sense blood in the water. We just don't know. Keep the guns manned, but don't fire unless we absolutely have to."

She gave him a curt nod before he left the bridge. He walked pensively, fully aware of the tension in the faces and shoulders of the crewmen who walked around him. The Admiralty council had their hands full trying to keep the civilian populations calm. So far, they hadn't divulged more than that they found human refugees from another world. Not even the Council knew about what Harry had just seen, and he wanted to keep it that way as long as possible.

Still, the fact was he had led his people into what looked like an alien war with foes he did not think they could beat—not with just three ships laden with civilians. The buzz of his badge startled him so badly he had the Elder wand out before he even realized what the sound was. Glancing around to make sure no one saw, he pulled out his badge and saw the text scroll from Hermione.

 _Come to the quarantine bay now!_

"Yes, dear," Harry muttered as he quickened his pace. When he arrived, he immediately noticed a new structure extending out from the conjured decontamination bay. Hermione stood right outside the door, her belly bulging at seven months. She was pacing, which worried him a great deal because with her swollen ankles her feet hurt all the time. For her to pace meant something bad was happening.

"I'm here."

She looked up and didn't even spare him a smile. "Good. Go talk to Samantha. I need to go to my quarters and lay down."

"Hermione?"

She waved off his concern. "I'm just tired, Harry. Make sure to pick Lily up before six, will you?"

With that, she left her confused husband outside of the new structure, which appeared to be a metal frame enclosed with heavy drapes. Hesitantly, he slipped between two of the drapes and instantly saw why Dr. Barnes created a separate space from the other refugees.

A pale, naked female body lay on a metal table in the middle of the expanded space. Sightless eyes stared up at the tent roof, and over her body Barnes and one of the other American doctors Harry didn't know cast half a dozen medical spells Harry didn't even know the names of, but which filled the air with various visions of the dead woman's brain. "What's happened?"

"I'm revising my earlier statements about these people being human," Barnes said. "Or at least this one. She didn't die of radiation poisoning from her ship. She died because the artificially engineered organic-silicate pathways in her brain reacted violently with the magic in the ship's internal fields."

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, opened it a second time before staring down at the woman. She looked Asiatic—attractive but thin from deprivation. But still very much human. "Spell it out for me."

"She wasn't human. Not like you, me, or any of the others in that room back there," Barnes said. "The ossification of her bones alone indicates that she is actually only five to ten years old biologically. The bones are the right shape for an adult, but the density is all wrong. It's as if she were subjected to accelerated growth. Her musculature also shows over-oxygenation and density—she was physically stronger than a human woman of her size would be, which made up for the initially weak bones. Plus there's this."

With a flick of her wrist, Barnes illuminated the interior of the dead woman's brain, zooming in with stunning clarity that would make most Muggle doctors froth at the mouth, until Harry found himself staring at a strangely familiar networking of nerve cells. "What is that?"

"That, Admiral, is an organic radio transceiver. And considering its size and nature, it is terrifyingly fast. This woman died just twenty minutes ago, and when she did, Webber recorded a radio signal leaving this ship that had at least five million terabytes of information."

"That sounds like a very big number," Harry said, since he'd never heard the word before.

Barnes snorted but spared him her normal scathing tongue. He couldn't say he liked Doctor Barnes, but he did respect the work she did. And…"Wait a minute." He tapped his badge with his wand. "Captain Patterson, exact time when the unknown hostile ships appeared to spot us?"

He watched his words scroll over his badge. Moments later he saw her reply before glancing at the dead woman. "I wonder if the hostiles were able to find us because of her."

"Given she had a radio transceiver in her head, it's a good bet," Barnes said dryly.

"So what is she?" Harry wondered aloud. "And what the hell is going on?"

"Why don't you ask the refugees?" Barnes said. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the quarantine room. "That Unspeakable, Morgline? She's learned to talk with at least one of them."

"Well, it's a start," Harry said. He then turned and walked into the quarantine bay itself, determined one way or another to find out what was going on.


	18. Holocaust

A/N: Trigger warning-a healthy, loving marriage ahead.

* * *

 **Chapter Eighteen: Holocaust**

August 19th, 2013

Miriam Margoline was not what one could describe as an attractive woman. Her black, wiry hair sprouted out from her head like an American tumbleweed, while her very narrow, sharp face made her look almost like the stereotypical witch from Muggle funny books. She even had a wart on her nose.

According to Hermione, Margoline entered the Department of Mysteries right out of Hogwarts because of what Hermione described as a near pathological ability to focus on one thing to the sometimes self-damaging exclusion of everything else. For her, the fact that her fellow Unspeakable Wichard Stoffen had been shot didn't matter because caring for him was outside of her mission parameters.

Of course, Stoffen was fine. Magic could heal amazing amounts of injuries. But now she was using that single-minded ability to learn to speak the alien language.

She met with Harry in the decontamination room, still clad in her Unspeakable cloak. "Oh, yes, I understand them fairly well now," she said with a Luna- _esque_ , absent smile. "Really, it's quite fascinating, like speaking out of time."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they are human. The phonology of their language is very similar to ours, which is to be expected given the fact that biologically they are identical. Once we determined common words and alphabets, it was relatively simple to learn their language."

"Can you tell what type of Earth language it came from, if Barnes is right?"

She cocked her head. "Can you tell from my English what language our ancestors in the Caucasus mountains spoke thousands of years ago? Whatever common language we might have had with these people has been separated by millennia. I would estimate whoever these people are, they have not seen earth since our earliest ancestors. Oh, and by the way? No magic in front of them. We have no idea how they would react. As far as they know, they were rescued by a vessel of their own kind who just speak a different language."

Harry could only agree with that approach. "Okay, let's go."

The staff expanded the quarantine room, Harry saw immediately. He doubted the refugees would have noticed given their state upon entry, but it was obvious Barnes's people expanded the room to give the rescued families a little more space. Instead of a row of beds, the room had been divided into several living spaces with flimsy, conjured walls in which rested beds and what spare clothing the shipboard civilians donated.

The woman Margoline led him to slept in the thirteenth subdivided space of the second row. Within her simple living space Harry saw one twin sized bed and two smaller mattresses on the floor. Two children sat in the limited floor space near the mattresses, the oldest no more than six. They were playing with a pair of rather grubby dolls of a make Harry didn't recognize.

It looked very much as if the older of the girls was pretending to have her doll shoot the younger's doll in the head over and over again. The woman herself still looked pale and thin, but had color back in her cheeks. Her hair was auburn, cut just above shoulder length. She wore a donated dress that might have looked okay on Molly Weasley, but appeared rather loose on the thin woman.

"Brenda," Margoline said.

Brenda sat up with what Harry could tell was a very forced smile. She noticed Harry's uniform of slacks, shirt and half-jacket and visibly winced, though at least she quickly hid the expression. Margoline sat on the edge of the bed near the refugee and began speaking in a rich, nuanced language that flowed almost like Greek or Spanish.

"I've explained that you wish to ask her a few questions," Margoline said. "I'll translate as best I can."

"Okay. Brenda, who attacked your world, and why did they?"

Margoline translated Harry's questions and Brenda's answers, slowly and haltingly at first, but with increasing fluency as her own comfort with the alien language increased. Harry concentrated as much on Brenda's answers as Margoline's translation, trying to match the foreign words with their English meaning.

Even so, the overwhelming horror of Brenda's circumstances and that of her whole people was enough to make his stomach roil. "Have you spoken to the other refugees?" he asked the Unspeakable.

"No," Margoline said. "I learn better by focusing on a single subject. But I am fluent enough we can speak to the others."

"First, ask if she has any immediate needs," Harry said. "Then let's go talk to the others."

"How many?"

"All of them."

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

That night, Harry walked into his cabin to find Hermione in the glide rocker, her swollen ankles propped up, with Lily in her lap already bathed and in her jammies. He'd forgotten to pick Lily up entirely, he realized with chagrin. He wondered just how much trouble he was in.

"Dada!" the precocious sixteen-month-old said. She wiggled free of her mother's not-quite-as spacious as before lap and toddled unsteadily to Harry, giggling as she did. She'd been walking almost since one year, and speaking since thirteen months.

Harry scooped her up and spun her around, causing her to giggle more.

"Don't rile her up right before bed," Hermione said tiredly.

Harry nodded, checked the wall clock, and winced at just how late he was. "How 'bout story time?" he asked.

"Ya! Yayayayayayayayayayaya!"

Harry danced his little girl into her room and spent the next hour reading her stories until she fell asleep on his lap, and then just rocking her while thinking about all the children just like her who died in the Cyrannus System, or even on Earth.

"Harry?"

Blinking back tears he didn't even realize were there, he looked up to see his beautiful, pregnant wife walk into the room. She moved to the storage bench where they kept Lily's linens and diapers and sat heavily. "You were with the refugees," she began simply.

He nodded. "I'm sorry I'm late, Hermione. I really am. I just got caught up in their stories. I think I even picked up a few words," he said absently. Lily sighed and snuggled into his ribs. Without waking her, he lifted her up onto his chest, with her head on his shoulder. She mewled like a cat purring with contentment—ordinarily he would have put her to bed by now, but he did not want to let go of her just yet.

"What are you thinking, Harry?"

In the light of the hallway shining in, her face appeared shadowy and mysterious, just hinting at the luminous beauty that had been filling his life since he was eleven. She was more than his wife. She was his first, best friend. The surge of feeling stole his voice for a moment until he had to look away. "I love you, Hermione."

"And I love you, Harry." She said it by rote. He knew she meant it, but as they grew older he discovered that of the two, he was far more emotional than she was. She could sit back and analyze something without any emotional attachment. But for Harry, his entire intellect was driven by emotion. That's why he depended on her so much—to keep his emotions from getting the best of him. It was likely why his magic was so much more powerful.

It was why he needed her so very much. To keep his head straight.

When at last he regained control, he told Hermione what he had learned from the refugees, who called themselves Colonials. They were once a civilization that spanned a dozen worlds, hundreds of moons, and which numbered in the many billions. He told her what he'd learned about the Cylons—machine servants who rose up against their humans within the first generation of their creation. And he told her of the Laird family's desperate flight from a world called Caprica on board a civilian transport with just the clothes on their backs and what food they could grab as they ran.

"It was one of their own military ships that stripped them of their FTL engines, pressed half their people into service, and shot those people the Unspeakables found," Harry finished sadly. "Those two hundred or so refugees may be all that remains of a civilization that numbered in the billions!"

On his shoulder, Lily stirred when his voice grew too loud. He hushed her gently, patting her back and rocking until she settled back down, and then stood and gently put her in her crib. She didn't even stir as she pulled at her pacifier. He placed her little stuffed hippogriff next to her and pulled over her blanket.

He felt Hermione next to him, an arm snaking around his waist. "What are you going to do, Harry?"

His mind tumbled over the many times she'd asked that throughout the life they'd shared together. He realized they each had their own stereotypical questions they asked of each other. His to her was, "What do you _think_?" Hers to him was always, "What are you going to _do_?"

And that's why they were so perfect together. "I'm going to do what I always do," he finally whispered as he reached down and ran a hand through his daughter's hair.

"Do it tomorrow, Harry," she whispered into his ear. "Your family needs you here tonight."

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

All of Harry's plans for the next day were put on hold when he received a summons to the bridge. He apparated directly there to find Patterson talking urgently with White and Goldstein. Ahead, he saw a distant field of glittering objects he took to be the inner Ort cloud of the insanely complicated Cyrranus System.

"What are we looking at?" he asked Patterson after he arrived.

She looked over his shoulder with wide, concerned eyes. "Admiral, we're looking at a blockade."

Minutes later, the executive staff were in the conference room. This time Hermione made it, as did the department heads. "We're still counting, but so far we've identified over ten thousand of those small fighter craft," Sinestra said, since the charting and finding of objects in space fell to her department. "We've also located perhaps fifty or so much larger ships embedding themselves within the system's Ort cloud. We speculate these are mother ships that serve as carriers for the smaller fighter craft."

"They're trying to find any survivors of these worlds they might have missed," Goldstein speculated.

Harry, though, shook his head. "They're looking for us."

Into the appalled silence, Harry nodded to a quiet Barnes, who uncharacteristically hadn't said anything to anyone yet. "Doctor Barnes warned me about taking in refugees. About possible diseases and risks to the crew. The one thing not even she could have predicted, though, was an enemy spy with transmitting capabilities grown right into her head. She was the reason these Cylons could sense us, and now that she's dead, they're trying to find us."

"The Admiral's right." Unlike normal, Barnes spoke with a grudging respect. "I mentioned in our last meeting that one of the refugees did not have the latent magical gene. Well, she wasn't human at all. She was an artificially grown humanoid being with organic and synthetic components, including a transmitter."

"That means…"

"That they know we exist, and that we are here," Harry said. "They must also know that we have a different form of FTL. Their FTL seems to be like a portkey—they jump forward. Ours is linear, which means we can't jump past attempted blockades."

"So what do you plan, Admiral?" Goldstein asked, somehow knowing Harry's brain was already working overtime.

"What would happen if we deactivate the Kasimov Dissipation charms on our ships?" Harry asked.

"We'd die in fire the moment we hit lightspeed," Hermione said. "But I see where you're going."

Beside Padma, Daniel pulled his carbon filament wand from his pocket and started tracing fiery equations in the air. "We could redirect them," he said. "Instead of sending the plasma energy into the lodestones we could direct it outward from the bow wave. It would shoot out directly along our line of sight—this is not something we could really aim."

"What's going through that head of yours, Potter?" Charlie Weasley asked.

White, though, chuckled. "You must have been a military man in a previous life, Admiral. He's thinking about using the bow wave as a relativistic kill weapon to just blast our way through."

"We'd still be caught up in the Ort cloud, though," Patterson pointed out.

"We were cautious before not only out of fear of hitting an asteroid, but for fear of our gravity wake disturbing the orbits of the objects in the cloud," Hermione said. "We were afraid of accidently sending a rock careening into Earth. Is that a concern now?"

"We burn a path through the alien ships," Harry declared. "And then we plow through at light speed or more. We use our gravity wake to drag the rocks and comets behind us to make it that much harder for the enemy to find us, and as soon as we clear the field we accelerate to full speed."

"The ships won't be able to go in a straight line with each other," White warned. "Our bow waves would incinerate each other."

"Even better," Harry said. "We go in three separate directions, and then rendezvous once we're outside the system so the Cylons won't know where we went for sure."

"That's damned risky," Goldstein said. "Going that fast, we could still hit a rock ourselves."

"We can use a mirror and rune relay to connect you real time to our astronavigation system," Sinestra said. "It would only take us an hour."

"What do we target?" White asked.

Harry's grin looked wolfish. "The motherships, of course."

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

While all the captains were coordinating what would be the first offensive action the fleet had ever taken, Harry made his way down to astronavigation. Most of the staff was away, working on the _Columbia_ or _Franklin_ to establish more direct navigational links to the _Invincible_.

Cassandra was right where he expected her, standing near a rail while staring intently into the hologram-style glamour of space in this region. The various worlds of the Twelve Colonies were all lit up in red, while a whole cloud of blue dots surrounded the system. "Cylons?"

"Is that what they're called?" Cassandra asked without looking back. "I wondered. Those are the Cylons our telescopes can see. Unfortunately, I am blind to them."

Harry, for his part, stared at her in confusion. "What do you mean?"

The woman released a long, shaky breath. "You can't imagine how much I see," she whispered. "I can see everyone on this ship. Everyone in the fleet. I see your lives, loves, fears and hopes. I can see other humans out in the stars, fleeing for their lives and clinging to false hopes. But I could not see the Cylon we brought aboard, nor those ravaging the worlds of this system."

It was the first time Appoline had truly spoken about the breadth of her visions, and Harry took that to mean they were alone, since he could not imagine her making such a confession to anyone else. The idea of her being able to see everything bothered him, if he were honest. And yet, he could see distress on her face, and realized just as quickly that it was just too much for any normal person. He restrained an urge to hug her.

"What does that mean?"

She looked at him, then, her eyes so dilated they appeared to be black. "There is a crossroads. The traveler is beset by storm, plague and famine. They are weary and weak. On one path lies a cold eternity. On the other, a rainbow of strife. They must choose—an eternity of life without life; or the mortality of magic."

"We're the traveler?" Harry asked.

"We're the other path," Cassandra corrected. "We are the path of endless strife and death. The Cylons—they are the path to eternity. They are our opposites. They are the end—the true death of magic in all the cosmos. I can't see the Cylons because they are our death. It is the people of this system who are the weary travelers."

To Harry's alarm, the seer folded right in front of him. He managed to catch her before she hit the ground. "Cassandra!" he cried.

With those dark, dilated eyes, she looked at him with a gaping jaw. "I saw a vision of you where you loved me like you love your wife," she whispered. "It was a path of what could have been, but it led to our deaths. All of us. And so I turned down the invitation to Hogwarts. Sometimes, though, I wonder if it would have been worth it for you to hold me in your arms like this, even if just for a little while."

"Cassandra, I don't…"

"I'm drunk on time," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I see it all, Harry. All this has happened before. Don't you understand? Without new blood, the magic withered and died, and only the people survived. We need the people to be strong. We need them if magic is to survive and…and…"

To Harry's utter shock, she reached up, wrapped both arms around his neck and kissed him—a desperate, passionate kiss that completely took his breath away. Nor did she show any sign that she would stop there—where a second ago she was weak and fainting, now she was stunningly strong as she surged up into the kiss, somehow straddling his lap and grabbing a hand to place it on one of her breasts.

Harry's body went on cruise control, just like he used to do when girls came onto him before. He remembered when Parvati kissed him, and within an hour they were making love. The girls moved in, and he went along with it for a few months until his constant work would drive them away. It wasn't until Hermione that it all…

 _Hermione._

Suddenly the cruise control shattered. He felt shocked at just how far they had come—Cassandra had shrugged out of her loose blouse, showing that while her face seemed oddly ageless, her body looked young and fit. Despite overwhelming temptation, made worse by the fact that Hermione did not like having sex in the third trimester, Harry managed to pull his eyes away from Cassandra's breasts and look her in the face.

He saw she was crying—her eyes had lost their dilation, and all he could see there was the deepest, most profound sense of loss he'd ever seen on the woman's face. She knew that he would not permit the tryst to continue—that he could not.

Without bothering to cover herself, she slid back off his legs and simply stared. "It would have been worth it, I think," she said in a voice made thick with tears. "But I didn't deserve you—not then. Not now. Your wife is a lucky woman, Harry Potter. Of us all, she's the only one worthy of your love." She climbed to her feet, still heedless of her undressed state, and turned to disappear into the shadows of the lab.

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

Harry very intentionally did not think about Cassandra Appolline, or her breasts, as he walked into the bridge two hours later. Captain Patterson was at the chair, and all her staff were on station.

"Admiral," she said when she said him. " _Columbia_ and _Franklin_ are receiving real-time telemetry from our astronavigation lab. We have picked three separate targets spanning a space of three AUs. We will accelerate to light speed and then decelerate five thousand meters in front of the enemy vessel."

"Will that be too far away?"

From the science station, Daniel Webber snorted and looked over his shoulder. "Have you ever seen Einstein's formula for kinetic energy?"

"Never even heard of it."

"You're going to see it in action real soon," he said.

"I don't think the distance will be an issue," Patterson assured him. "Everyone, are we ready?"

The crew snapped off. " _Columbia_ and _Franklin_ both report ready," the communications officer said.

"Very well. Set coordinates and accelerate to thirty-percent power. Stop at the coordinates ordered."

There was no count down or further orders. The view ahead flashed brightly red—much more so than normal because of how quickly they accelerated, and then they stopped and all Harry could see was white. The effect lasted only seconds, but when the view returned to normal, he felt his knees go weak.

Ahead of them, a ball of white plasma continued to streak away, blurring as it appeared to be both close and far away as it skimmed the limits of physical laws. And it left in its path a wake of vaporized destruction of a level Harry could not have believed possible.

They did not hit the Cylon mother ship directly—instead they sheered the massive craft in half, vaporizing the damaged half entirely and sending the flaming remainder spinning toward the distant asteroids and comets.

"Propulsion, go, one _c_!"

The ship accelerated again following after the burst of plasma that sheered a path through the Ort cloud for them. The magical fields created by the lodestones that both pushed and pulled them did likewise for any objects that drifted too near—pulling a plethora of space rocks into their wake.

"We're clear!" Ginny shouted.

"Helm, take us to full speed!"

"Aye aye, Captain!"

"Yee haw!" Daniel shouted. "Take that, Webber and Haldeman!"

"Who's he talking about?" Ginny asked aloud.

"No idea," Patterson said. "But damned if that didn't work perfectly. Admiral, you may have just saved our butts."

"You did the work." Harry waved off the praise. "I just came up with the idea. Captain, let me know when we reach the rendezvous point. I'll be in my cabin."

Harry tried to apparate on the ship only when absolutely necessary. So he took his time walking back to his cabin to check on Hermione. Mainly, he wanted to talk about what happened with Cassandra. It never even dawned on him to keep it a secret, and even if he thought to do so, he wouldn't have been able to. Instead, he wanted to talk through it to figure out for himself just what happened, and why.

He got in and found Hermione in her favorite rocker. "Where's Lily?" he asked when he walked in.

"At the sitter," Hermione said. "I was watching on the mirror. It really worked."

"It really did," Harry said, grinning despite himself. He grabbed chair from the little kitchen table and sat down facing her. "Look, a few hours ago, something happened and I need to talk about it. I was in Astronavigation and…and…" Suddenly Harry's famous courage abandoned him. "She kissed me. Cassandra, I mean."

Hermione stared at him with a blank face, though her rocking did accelerate a little. "And was that all?"

"It took about ninety seconds for my brain to kick on and stop it, but she was pretty fast until then."

"You must have been so tempted." She still kept her voice perfectly calm and reasonable, and Harry realized he was in trouble. "After all, I'm so fat. I never took all the weight off after Lily, did I? And we haven't made love in weeks. So here comes Luna two-point-oh, only with bigger boobs, and it's all you can do to keep your pecker in your pants."

"Hermione! That's not…"

"She told me, Harry. She came in here and told me that she kissed you—tried to do more but you stopped her. But you know, all I could think about was that joke you made, back in our dorm in Hogwarts Valley, about Susan Bones."

 _That came out of left field._ "Hermione, that really was a joke."

"Was it? I watched you ogle her breasts through most of our Hogwarts years!"

"Yeah, and Cho Chang's ass, Parvati's breasts, Hannah Abbott's breasts, Daphne Greengrass's ass, and after fourth year, your ass too. I was a teenaged boy, Hermione. I ogled pretty much every pretty girl in the school. That does not mean I am prepared to betray the one woman I love more than life itself for a stupid, one-night stand!"

"Oh, Harry, I'm so ugly!" Hermione howled, again bowling him over by the utterly un-Hermione outburst.

Thirty minutes later, flushed and teary eyed and naked in bed, she said, "Don't let it happen again."

"Promise. So, just out of curiosity, what did she say?"

"That I was a lucky woman, and that if we didn't find the survivors of the Colonial holocaust, we'd all die. I was concentrating on the lucky woman part, though."

Laughing, Harry pulled her onto her back and kissed her, then kissed his way down to her bulging, bare stomach. "You are my everything, Hermione. Never forget that."

"How could I?" she said with shimmering eyes. Then, "I hate hormones, Harry. Maybe one more, and then that's it. I don't think I could handle more."

"Whatever you say, Love."

"Now go get me some chocolate."

"Yes, dear."

"And some pickles."

"Yes, dear."

"Don't make that face at me, Harry."

"Never, dear."

Harry laughed as he walked naked to the kitchen.


	19. Finding the Source

A/N: Chap 18 review responses are in my forums as normal. And with this, we wrap up the first part of this two-part story. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Nineteen: Finding the Source**

August 21, 2013

As much as Harry hated the idea, he did not think he should make a unilateral decision regarding the Colonials and their relationship without discussing the matter with the Advisory Council. Cassandra's words rang through his mind, unfortunately accompanied by her breasts as well. He tried his best to concentrate on the message itself and not the unfortunate situation that managed, somehow, to still get him a good shagging with Hermione.

He would never understand women.

Speaking of, Ms. Argenta Nimue Thrope strode into the Council Room as if she owned the place, clutching the report Harry had so painstakingly prepared with Hermione's help. In the two years the Advisory Council had served, Harry had at least developed a professional respect for the woman. They would never be friends, but he hoped he had convinced her that he was not another Voldemort or Grindelwald.

The Chairman and former auror, William Stennis, stomped into the room. "Admiral," he said with a greeting. "Argenta. Lovely blouse you're wearing today."

"It's the same one I wore last time we met, Will."

"And it was lovely then as well," Stennis said without missing a beat as he took the chairman's seat.

The others filed in—Bill, his wife's cousin Maurice Delacour, the Texan Howard Crenshaw, whom Harry still did not entirely trust (it was his always perfect hair), Donald Lauer from Boston, Carolyn Huffington from New York, and finally, moving slower, Madeline Hooper from Ohio. Harry was saddened to see the relatively young woman's decline. The radiation potion had helped remove the radiation she absorbed from Earth, but no magic could reverse the damage done. The flu she caught didn't help matters.

"Thank you for coming," Harry began. "I'm sure you've read the report. The reason I asked for you to meet with me today is that I believe establishing relations with another group outside of our own should not be a unilateral decision."

Bill Weasley snorted. "Hermione told you to say that, didn't she?"

Harry grinned and winked at the Weasley patriarch, secure that Bill was usually his staunchest ally on the council. "In the report you will note that all those Colonials recovered from the derelict craft have latent magical genes. Not only does this mean that they are all descended from magical stock, it also means that if they were to interbreed with witches and wizards, there was a very good chance our children would also be magical."

"How do we know that?" Thrope asked.

"Colonial genetics," Harry said. "We're not entirely sure how they got out here, but Cassandra believes the Colonials themselves will have the answers for us. Nonetheless, they are in a real sense our cousins. More importantly, they've gone through a holocaust just as bad as our own, and I believe it is the right thing to help them. Cassandra agrees it is important that we assist them."

"Says the woman who said we'd all find a home at Cyrranus," Thrope said dryly.

"She never said that," Harry pointed out quickly. "And the fact that she saw this place at all is pretty damned impressive if you think about it. And she did see it, Argenta. She showed us this system two years ago, in fact, a full year before we decided to leave Earth. But if you look on page 22 of your report, you'll see a computer model that former Unspeakable Padma Patil and Dr. Samantha Barnes ran on viable population models."

They obligingly flipped to the referenced page, all save Crenshaw. "Admiral, it seems to me you just want to make nice with these Colonials. But the problem as I see it isn't the Colonials, but the damned Cylons trying to kill them. If we just find someplace else to go, maybe the Cylons will just leave us along and finish what they started with Colonials. It's not our fight."

"With that kind of thinking, Mr. Crenshaw, everyone here but Mr. Weasley would be dead right now," Harry said. "I bought the original _Invincible_ to save my personal friends and family, and those that chose to help me build it. It was only because I made everyone's survival my fight that any of you are alive today. The Americans would not have accomplished as much without our help as they did in time, that much I can assure you."

"Ya'll seem to be doing okay with American guns," the Texan said.

"Which are hooked up to British designed engines and habitats," Harry countered. "Guns didn't save your life, Mr. Crenshaw. But that's beside the point—the Cylons know about us. We haven't spread the word yet, but there was a Cylon spy among the refugees. She's dead now—they can't handle the magic. But the Cylon's know about us, and their attempts to capture or destroy us at Cyrranus prove that they now consider us a threat. My proposal to ally with the Colonials is to increase the odds of our shared survival."

"What could they do for us?" Huffington said in a loud whisper—it was the best she could do now.

"For one thing, they have a type of propulsion that seems better than ours," Harry said. "The magic we used to build this ship was based on principles of Muggle physics. The Waterstone Drive, for instance, operates on a theory proposed by a Muggle physicist. If these people have been travelling in space longer, then it's entirely possible their sciences are more advanced, which could propel what our own technomages can accomplish. Their weapons, while maybe not packing the punch ours do, fire thousands of times faster. And lastly, if enough survived, it could give us a broad enough population to ensure our long-term survival as magical beings."

"Is that your motivation?" Lauer asked. "To advance our own cause?"

Harry thought of various things he could say that might be political, and then promptly threw it out the window. "I saw a little boy sit by the body of his dead mother with tears in his eyes," he admitted. "They're people, just like us. They didn't deserve this holocaust, any more than we deserved ours. If we can help them, then by Merlin we should. Even more so if it has the potential of helping our own people in the long run."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I agree," Thrope announced.

"I don't," Crenshaw said. "We're borrowing trouble we can't handle. These Cylons only know about us because of us buttin' our noses where they don't belong."

"I'm inclined to agree," Maurice Delacour said. "With respect, Admiral Potter, it truly is not our fight."

Stennis snorted. "It became our fight when we took those refugees aboard. And for the record, I'd have done the same thing. I call for a vote to allow Admiral Potter to initiate diplomatic relations with these Colonials. Do I have a second?"

"Second," Thrope said.

"All in favor, say 'Aye'."

Harry tried to hide his relieved sigh as Stennis, Thrope, Weasley, Huffington and Hooper voted for it. Lauer, Crenshaw and Delacour voted against.

"Ayes have it, the motion is carried," Stennis said. "Try not to get us killed, Potter. I would hate to die before my campaign to charm Miss Thrope there comes to fruition."

"Keep dreaming, Will," Thrope said, though Harry saw she smiled. "No fraternizing among councilors."

"Our terms end next year," Stennis said with a wink before walking up to Harry. He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "You're doing a fine job, Potter. Just keep on not getting us killed."

With that, the former auror stomped out of the room. Harry turned to Thrope. "So, you and Stennis, huh?"

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry couldn't help but laugh.

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

When he next went to the Astronavigation Lab, he made sure Parvati was with him, which his old classmate found hilarious.

"Yeah, that's smart, bringing an ex-girlfriend with you to ward off unwanted advances."

"Hermione's at another doctor's meeting. And you're supposed to be my secretary."

Parvati snorted. "Harry, I _am_ your secretary. If you think you're busy now, you'd be drowning without me. I just have to make a little fun of you. The whole situation is hilarious."

"I wasn't laughing."

She sobered a little as she looked at him. "She wasn't either, Harry."

It all proved a moot issue. Cassandra was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Aurora Sinistra stood waiting for them near the display, already speaking with Captain Patterson. "Admiral," she said with a nod and a perfectly straight face. "Ms. Patil. We have some targets, for you."

"Really?" Harry stepped to the edge of the magical display. "Show me, please."

"Well, we've been using divination and arithmancy to determine a history of what happened during the Cylon attack. We then extrapolated from that. I have to say right up front, Admiral, that for whatever reason none of our magical techniques can see the Cylons, only our Muggle equipement. But we could tell just from the deaths of the Colonials where they were attacking."

The former Astronomy teacher began flicking her wand—the display spun around counter-clockwise several times, as if rewinding. He then watched as thousands of dots began glowing gold over the system.

"The attack appears to have occurred roughly thirty-eight days ago. The Colonials had an amazing military, and the Cylons just picked it apart with the same computer viruses they used on us. It was a huge, coordinated strike on nearly every single Colonial military installation in the System. But they could not wholly account for chance and luck."

As Harry watched, the golden dots began winking out all over the system. He leaned forward with interest at the many lone dots that remained spread out over the whole vast space of the system. Some began clumping together in various groupings, blinking in and out of space with their odd propulsion systems.

One of the small clumps jumped just outside the Ort cloud. "Are those the ships we found?"

"Yes," Aurora said. As she spoke, another golden dot appeared next to them, before leaping back into the system. But when he followed, what he saw the largest clumping of dots split apart, with half appearing on the edge of the system, near the fifth star that orbited one of the two binary systems. Those that remained behind blinked out, but did not reappear.

"Destroyed," Aurora said when he glanced to her for confirmation.

Eventually, as Harry watched, the largest grouping on the far edge of the system popped away in quick succession, only to appear far beyond the Ort cloud closer to where the _Invincible_ and her sister ships were than to where they started.

"Holy Merlin's balls," he muttered. "How far was that?"

"Approximately ten light years."

"In a second, from a standstill," Harry said with a whistle. "I know we can go faster, but that's still pretty impressive considering the amount of debris in their way. So, that's our target?"

"It's one possible target," Aurora said. She pointed to another golden dot still in the System. "This is the ship that attacked our refugees." She pointed out several other dots on the outskirts of the system, many hiding in the Ort clouds. "Thirty ships in all. We don't see the ships unless they have someone alive inside. Perhaps that's why we can't see these Cylons."

"But for all we know, there could be Cylons shadowing everyone."

Sinistra nodded somberly.

"Thank you, Aurora."

She shrugged. "It's not my vision powering these projections."

With a wry smile, Harry nodded. "I know. And I'm thankful we have Cassandra too."

As he left the room with Parvati on his heel, she said, "You feel guilty."

"I didn't come on to her."

Parvati snorted. "That's not why you feel guilty, doofus. You had to say no, and you did the right thing, Harry. But you still feel guilty about it because Cassandra's hurting. You're just that kind of person. I won't try to tell you not to feel bad, but I will say you did the right thing."

"Would you say that if I rejected you?"

She shrugged. "Before you finally came to your senses about Hermione? No. But now? You're where you belong, Harry. Trust me. Now, which ship are you going to pick, _Columbia_ or _Franklin._ "

"What?" He stared in surprise at the question.

"You're not going to take the whole fleet back into that system, but you're not going to let all those stragglers die either. So, you're going to pick one of the smaller ships to lead the chase to save as many as you can."

"Bloody hell you're good."

"Well, you know what they say—behind every good leader is a great secretary."

For the second time that morning, Harry had a good laugh.

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

Harry was relieved when Captain White volunteered the _Columbia_ without hesitation. "I think we should evacuate as many civilians to the _Franklin_ as we can, though," he added.

"I agree," Harry said. "Barry, how many can the _Franklin_ take?"

"Short term, all of them," Barry Goldstein said. "If it goes on more than a month, we'll want to consider moving some of them to the _Invincible._ "

"Let's count on a three week mission," Harry said.

Still, moving over fifteen thousand people was no small matter. It didn't help that the two Councilors of the ship were divided on the vote to support the initiative in the first place. While Madeline Hooper approved of the mission, Crenshaw was vocal in his displeasure.

They docked the ships bow to stern, aligning their lodestone fields to keep from repelling each other away, and used their vanishing cabinets as well. There was some grumbling, but Captain White wisely made it a voluntary transfer only, after explaining over the intercom that the _Columbia_ would be going into potential combat situations and that anyone who remained did so at their own risk.

Even with the warning, Harry was surprised that at least three thousand citizens stayed. While Captain White's crew continued to oversee the election, Harry went down into the ship's sole habitat dome, which was much smaller at four kilometers of internal expanded space compared to the sixteen kilometers in each of the _Invincible's_ habitats.

"So you're Harry Potter," one of the remaining wizards said as soon as Harry arrived in the carefully constructed city of three story apartments that housed the majority of the civilians. The man stood tall, with broad shoulders and thinning hair on a head that appeared small on his thick, muscular neck.

"I am," Harry said, offering a hand.

"Jan Winterborn, late of Dallas. Pleasure to meet you."

"And you, Jan," Harry said with a smile. "May I ask why you chose to stay?"

Winterborn's smile looked vaguely hungry. "I understand you're taking this ship in to try and save those alien folks."

"That's right."

"So you might need some help, if any o' them robot people sneak aboard. Those of us 'r staying, we can take care of ourselves. I sent my wife and kids off, and the others did too. We'll fight if we have to."

With a grin, Harry said, "You'll understand me when I say I hope it doesn't come to that. But if it does, it's good to have you here."

After assuring himself that the remaining civilians of the _Columbia_ knew what they were potentially getting themselves into, Harry returned to the _Invincible_ to get his most important passenger. For them to make contact with the Colonials, they needed a native speaker.

Which made his next mission somewhat dicey, and one he would need back-up on. Fortunately, after the weeks spent in quarantine, Dr. Barnes and the other healers were reasonably assured that the Colonials posed no great threat to the ship. They were kept segregated now because no one was sure how the Colonials would react to the fact that they had two sixteen-kilometer long, four kilometer high habitat domes with opposite gravitational orientation inside a ship that could park in one of their own.

Still, he did not think his recruitment drive would work without a certain amount of persuasion. So, with Andromeda's grudging permission, Harry led his godson and their cousin, young Donnie Malfoy, into the refugee area.

The young boy carried a basket of sweet breads and candies donated by various sellers in the habitats. Most of it was made from fruit or transfigured pecans, though they did have their first batch of honey and some chocolate ready.

The ninety or so children that made up almost half of the refugee population were gathered in the center of the refugee area listening to one of the mothers read a story in their own language. Harry looked and spotted Iris and Nike, Brenda Laird's two daughters, sitting in the middle of the group listening with the raptness of children who had nothing to occupy their time for far too long.

Margoline sat in the far back, slightly apart from some of the other mothers. By now, all were dressed in a strange hybrid of Colonial and magical garb. They all looked much recovered, though, at least physically. Harry knew from personal experience it would be many years, if ever, before the haunted looks in their eyes went away.

The story teller stopped and watched them with a confused expression; the children, ranging in ages from toddlers to early teens, also turned to watch the nervous Teddy Lupin, with bright, blushing pink hair, and Donnie Malfoy holding a box of candy, walk into the room.

There were many, many things about the Malfoys Harry never liked, but when Donnie walked without hint of shame, embarrassment or shyness toward the group of alien kids and sat the box down, Harry could only admire what had to be the genetic predisposition toward confidence bordering on arrogance.

"Hi!" he said brightly. "I gots candies!"

The children had no idea what his words meant, but understood the tone well enough. Especially when Donnie reached into the box and removed a small chocolate, only to pop it in his mouth.

With that invitation, the children swarmed the box almost with a desperation that spoke of how long it had been since they had any type of treats. With the younger children occupied, Harry led a still pink-haired Teddy toward the far corner of the common room where Brenda was watching the whole thing amidst several other mothers and younger women who either did not have children, or lost them in the conflict.

Margoline joined Harry as he approached. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Recruiting. We're going to need an interpreter."

Margoline blinked, her face otherwise blank, before she nodded. "Okay."

Brenda herself stood as Harry arrived in his ship's uniform. After spending several hours speaking with him, she at least did not appear as nervous as the other women and girls around them. "Hello," she said in halting English.

" _Hello,"_ he returned in her own language, sure his word was as faltering as her own. "Please tell her that we need her help in speaking to other survivors we are going to try and save. That it will require her to move to a different ship for at least three weeks. Let her know that if she wishes, her daughters can stay here, or they can stay with my godson and his cousin, and their grandmother, who is Healer Tonks here in this ward."

Margoline translated, herself almost speaking fluently now. But more importantly, Harry himself could understand almost everything she said. He wondered if he had a natural gift of tongues beyond just Parseltongue since he'd lost that skill when he lost the portion of Voldemort's soul in his scar. His failures with French made him doubt it, but he was learning the Colonial language quickly.

Laird listened intently, and Harry watched as her expression vacillated through fear, worry, anger and hope. " _Are you going to find the Pegasus?_ "

Harry looked to Margoline, unsure of the reference.

"That's the name of the military vessel who took her husband," Margoline explained.

Harry considered his options and decided for a partial lie, since he had no desire to take on an angry, violent Colonial military ship. _"We can't tell which ship is which."_

"Very good, Admiral," Margoline said in English, praising his hesitant Colonial.

She looked to where Donnie Malfoy was bossing the other children into a line to get more candy from a box that held more than a box that size ordinarily would. " _He is your son?"_

" _He is the son of…_ classmates."

Margoline had to translate the last. Harry followed Laird's gaze and saw her two daughters sitting near Malfoy, laughing as they each ate a sweat bread roll. " _I haven't seen them smile since they took Peter._ "

" _Will you help us save your people?"_

A tear ran down the woman's face, which she quickly wiped away before nodded. " _Yes, I'll help you. I want the girls to stay here—they've made some friends. But if your…kids visit, that would be nice."_

Harry sighed in relief. " _Every day_ ," he promised.


	20. Running the Gauntlet

A/N: Chap 19 review responses are in my forums. Part Two begins below. When thinking about the shift in perspective, I realized early on that I was going to have to introduce some OCs. It's my hope that their characterizations are in line with nBSG. Thanks as always for reading.

* * *

 _ **PART TWO**_

 **Chapter Twenty: Running the Gauntlet**

August 22, 2013 (Day 39 of the Colonial Holocaust)

Commander Chrysanthos Delapina jerked awake with a spasm of muscles and a surge of adrenaline that made his chest ache. He sat up from the day bed in his quarters with a moan and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

The sound that woke him so abruptly came again—a distant, heavy thud that rattled his whole cabin. It came again, and then a third time, followed by a sound that, even muted by distance, sounded like nails on chalk board.

Or a dental drill.

Giving up on sleep, Delapina stumbled to the head. He did not shower—they were on water rations for the foreseeable future. He did wet a cloth and wipe himself down as much as possible before pulling on a uniform that had begun to smell a bit ripe. Laundry too was being rationed, even for the commander.

The CIC when he arrived sounded and looked dead to the world, but then again it was operating on a skeleton crew, and half of it was melted slag from the nuke that killed his XO. It should have killed him as well if he weren't on the port side flight deck at the time.

"Lastrum, wake up," he snapped.

The teen-aged specialist who had been assigned to communications jerked awake, much as Delapina had himself. "Sorry, sir!" he blurted, even before he had recalled who or where he was and what he was supposed to be doing.

Delapina looked across the aisle at the only console in a bank of five that was manned, or even working. "Tactical, report?"

"No DRADIS contacts, Commander," the slightly older Lieutenant Junior Grade Ariana Machiala said, stifling a yawn spurred by Lastrum's, no doubt. "Watchdog and Snake are on CAP, no sightings reported."

He nodded before looking sternly at Lastrum. "Status of Communications?"

Lastrum floundered—he was not Delapina's first choice for the station. Lastrum was simply the only one left alive with even a modicum of training with the equipment. "Um…we have inter-ship wireless back online and limited ship-to-ship. Crews are still working on the main receiver and put it at another two days before they have something rigged up, sir."

In other words, they still could not communicate with Fleet headquarters, assuming there even _was_ a fleet headquarters left. They'd received a few snatched pieces of communications through their short-range that were chilling in their implications, followed by an announcement from the _Galactica_ to make for Ragnar, but no one seemed to have a clear understanding of just how bad the attack was.

The _Valkyrie_ class Battlestar _Asteria_ was, to put it frankly, a mess. Out of the original crew of 2,000, he had just over a thousand left, and many of those were so badly injured as to be non-functional for an indefinite period. He thanked the gods almost hourly that their ship's surgeon had survived with only mild injuries. Among those killed was his XO and long-time friend, Susand Alliard, and the entire First Watch command staff on the CIC when the first missile hit.

The _Asteria_ was on routine system patrol, in the Helios Delta quadrant, when a flight of twelve Cylon raiders jumped right on top of them and opened up with nukes. The fact that the _Asteria_ survived at all was a miracle that had as much to do with their position in the asteroid cloud of the system as sheer luck.

The Cylons launched from ten thousand meters out to make sure they were well clear of the EMPs. One of the missiles struck a passing asteroid that the _Asteria_ herself was using as target practice, and the resulting detonation destroyed another eight, leaving only three nukes to strike the ship directly. The _Valkyries_ were tough ships, but they weren't _Galactica_ or _Mercury_ class ships. Three was enough to put them out of action. But twelve high-yield nukes would have been an instant kill.

Because he was on the port flight deck, Delapina survived the initial volley, which hit the CIC, the starboard flight deck, and their thruster pods. Realizing they were under attack, he managed to get the ship's surviving air wing out.

Those twenty four outclassed old Mark IV Vipers held off the twelve raiders at a cost of one-to-one—only half the wing returned. With communications out and their position marked, Delapina ordered only the fourth FTL jump of his twenty-year career, since the FTL drive was one of the few systems still functioning. They jumped clear of the system entirely before jumping back in the Helios Alpha quadrant and ducking once more into the debris cloud that surrounded the entire super-system of the Twelve Colonies.

It was an act of desperation that he "landed" the _Asteria_ on the lifeless, minor planetoid of Achlys, just one of hundreds of large-bodied objects that were caught in the combined gravitational influence of the Cyrranus system. And there they had remained, working desperately not to get back into the fight, but just to stay alive in a dangerously damaged ship.

Delapina walked around the tactical display systems, broken as they were, and examined the gutted consoles for the helm control, Weapons and FTL. They steered the ship to the planetoid by roughly re-wired controls and a game joystick controller donated to the cause. Even then, with only two of their sub light engines working, they weren't going to be making any combat maneuvers anytime soon. Of the ten overhead monitors on movable gimbals, only three were working, and showed only the surrounding asteroids on one, and a status report of the ship on the other. He was tired of looking at red.

It took a quick look to find a functioning inter-ship com headpiece. He picked it up and said, "Saspit, where are you?"

A moment of static was followed by, " _Engineering deck, Commander."_

"Status?"

He heard a sigh over the wireless. _"No joy on number three and four engine pods, sir. We just don't have the parts or capabilities to replace an entire pod. I've ordered the engineering crew to cannibalize the dead pods and to put the number two drive on the aft side. At least we'll be maneuverable, even if we'll be maneuvering like a bloody leviathan."_

Lieutenant Commander Horace Saspit was fifty-six, an engineer by trade and choice. Never in Delapina's imagination would he have dreamed he would have to move Saspit into the role of XO. "Very good. ETA?"

" _Two more days, Commander, best estimate_."

"Good. Carry on, XO."

" _Yes, sir_."

Delapina pulled the headset off and stared down brooding at the darkened tactical table. Sheets of reports were spread out, tantalizing, horrifying snippets of conversations, a portion of an automated signal broadcast so powerful they received it even on their short range that indicated President Adar and much of the cabinet had been killed.

It ate at him, not knowing for sure how bad things were.

"Er, Commander, I'm getting a signal," Lastrum said.

Delapina straightened. "Picon?"

"Er, no sir. It's uh…Brenda?"

Delapina sighed. "Lastrum, put it on speakers."

"Er, sorry, sir, they're not working."

"Then patch it through my headset."

Lastrum looked down at his console, obviously out of his depth. Machiala stomped to his console and hit three switches before returning to her station. "Still no DRADIS contacts, Commander," she noted.

He nodded to her and put the headset on. Instantly, he heard a voice said, " _Hello? Is there anyone there?_ "

"Who is this?" Delapina demanded.

" _Oh, hello! My name is Brenda Laird from Caprica. Is this the_ Asteria? _"_

The commander took a deep, calming breath. "Brenda Laird from Caprica, what are you doing on this frequency?"

" _I'm trying to reach the_ Asteria _. At least, that's what it says on the ship we're looking at. It's a battlestar, right? My husband would know what kind, but Admiral Cain took him and shot a lot of the women and children in our transport so the men wouldn't fight being pressganged. Is this the_ Asteria _?"_

Delapina muted his headpiece and glared at Machiala. "Where in the hell is that signal coming from?"

"It's close," she said. "Lastrum, for frak's sake just send me your console controls."

"Yes, sir. Um, er…."

Machiala sighed in frustration and walked back to Lastrum's controls, moving the useless boy over as she quickly started typing. "Triangulating now. Signal appears to be originating from 224 carom 895.5."

"Get the CAP out there!"

"Right away, sir."

" _Hello?"_

He unmuted. "Brenda Laird from Caprica, this is the _Asteria._ Where are you, and why are you on this channel?"

" _I'm on an…on another ship, and we're just a few…I'm sorry, I don't understand their language very well yet. At a guess I'd say maybe a couple of kilometers away from you? We're looking right at you, though. They asked me to talk since the only two who've learned any Caprican aren't really fluent yet."_

 _Cylons?_ Delapina wondered. "Listen, Brenda, who are you with?"

" _I'm not sure. I've never heard them say who they were. They don't speak any Colonial language, but they look and act human. They even have children aboard. But…don't tell anyone else, but I…I think they may be Lords of Kobol. They've tried to hide it, but I've seen them do things when they don't think any of us notice."_

"Oh great, a religious fanatic," he muttered after muting his headset. Unmuting it, he said, "Brenda, have they said what they want?"

" _They want to help the survivors of the holocaust, the Admiral said. Caprica's gone. It's just…it's gone. The Cylons killed everyone, everywhere. But somehow these people can see us, wherever we are. That's how they found you. And they want to gather as many people as they can and get us together with another group of survivors_."

"Brenda, it's difficult for us to trust these friends of yours if we can't see them."

" _Oh, okay."_ Over the headset, he could hear her talking in a stilting, somewhat guttural language. The reply came in equally stilted, awkward _Caprican_ standard.

" _He will see us. Do shoot not._ "

A second later, Lastrum sputtered and clicked a switch, putting the CAP on the line. "Holy frak! _Asteria, Watchdog. A ship just frakking appeared in front of me. No jump signature, it was just there."_

"Commander," Mchiala said urgently. "I'm still not getting a DRADIS contact."

"Can we get an exterior view overhead of those coordinates?"

"Aye, sir. Number 23 camera is still working."

He watched, staring intently up at the monitor, until the alien craft came into view. He could also see his CAP flying at a safe distance around the odd craft. It was miniscule, barely two hundred feet long and sixty feet wide. That said, it had what looked like a fair-sized gun protruding from the smooth, rectangular hull, with a dozen smaller weapons placements around that same hull. It was the strange, seashell-shaped dome that rose up from the rectangular hull that looked confusing. The entire ship was built of a silver-white metal—possibly titanium.

"Watchdog, _Asteria_ actual. What do you see?" he asked.

" _Strangest frakkin' thing I've ever seen,"_ came Watchdog's professional opinion. " _No flight deck, no exterior protrusions except guns. I can't even see engines. What drives this thing?"_

"Is it Cylon?"

" _Not unless the Cylons humped a leviathan and birthed this thing. I'm moving a little closer to…oh_ Frak Me!Asteria, _all systems just went dead. I have no propulsion, no navigation, stick is dead. Krypter, krypter, krypter, declaring an emergency. All systems are dead_."

Delapina was pleased to note that Machiala was already ordering other birds in the air. "Brenda, one of our vipers was just disabled by your friends."

" _We saw that. Their engines?...engines did it. I think they run on some type of magnet or something. As long as your Vipers don't come too close, they should be fine. Admiral Potter said he can push the Viper away so you can get it._ "

"Please ask that he do so."

Delapina watched as an odd flash of light streaked around the prow of the ship along a distinct curve. Instantly, the downed _Viper_ bounced away into open space, just as the first _Raptor_ arrived to tow it back to the _Asteria_. Accompanying the _Raptor_ were four more vipers that took up station-keeping around the strange craft.

"Brenda, what does this admiral of yours want to do? _"_

" _He wants to meet you. He would like to go over there, just him and…oh, and me, of course. And maybe the odd woman who's been teaching me their language. No one else_."

It took only a split second to make a decision. "Okay, Brenda. Tell him he can come to the port landing pod."

" _Port is right, right?"_

"Left, Brenda."

" _Okay. We'll come over. Please don't shoot us. My kids are having a hard enough time with seeing all those people Admiral Cain shot."_

With that, the connection ended.

"Well, this out to be interesting," Machiala said dryly.

"Machiala, you're the Officer of the Deck. Either get Lastrum trained, or get someone you can train."

"Yes, sir."

"And get Major Barris and a squad to the Port Landing deck ASAP."

"On it, sir."

Walking through the _Asteria_ was an exercise in frustration. The normally crowded halls echoed with the sound of his boot heels on empty plating. The port side of the ship was relatively undamaged, but with all the crews working desperately to repair the engines or communications systems, there was no one left to get in his way.

That changed when he reached flight deck. Chief Barstol was busy cajoling his people to keep working despite their obvious exhaustion. They had recovered almost a dozen damaged Vipers and two raptors from the starboard flight pod and were cannibalizing the worst damaged to save at least some of the birds. They couldn't even think about trying to repair the starboard flight pod until after they had some maneuverability and communications.

"Commander on deck!" Barstol shouted.

"At ease, Chief," Delapina said quickly, waving at the crew of orange-suited engineers to keep working. "Where's the LSO?"

"Number three tube's pulley went off line—I have some people with him working on it."

Delapina sighed but nodded. "Good. Carry on."

He only took a few more steps before Major Erick Barris arrived in full combat gear with a unit of ten of his marines. "Major," Delapina said with a nod. "We may have visitors from an unknown craft inbound."

The major raised on blonde brow. "Unknown, sir?"

"As in we don't know who the frak these people are. Stand escort for diplomatic reception."

"Sir, yes sir!"

With the marines at his back, Delapina walked to landing control room. The Landing Signal Officer was not there, but two other controllers were and quickly rose to their feet. "At ease. Word on Watchdog?"

"Inbound three minutes, sir," one of the controllers said.

"Patch me through the CAP."

"Aye, sir."

Delapina slipped on the borrowed headpiece. "Snake, this is _Asteria_ actual. Sitrep?"

"Sir, a small craft has exited the alien vessel. And by small—the dang thing could almost fit in my Viper. No obvious means of propulsion. It's…it's blinking a light at me. Orders, sir?"

"Blink back and escort it in, Lieutenant. Other birds are to stay in formation around the main craft."

"Aye, sir."

"Unknown craft, eh, Commander?" Barris said dryly.

"Sir," a controller said. "Watchdog is in."

Even as she spoke, an elevator brought down the Raptor and Viper into the hanger bay. Captain Dana "Watchdog" Kyveli had her helmet and gloves off already and was cursing up a storm, judging from the way her mouth was moving. She jumped out of her bird before they even had the ladder set and was stalking toward the control room.

"Commander," she said, snapping off a salute when she arrived. "Grunts," she said to Barris and his marines. It was widely rumored she and Barris had an affair a few years back. The rumors were fueled by the fight they had in the officer's mess that forced the XO to put them both in the cooler for a night. "Any word on what the hell that thing is yet?"

"We're about to find out."

Just minutes later, the elevator came down again, and this time, he saw Snake's Viper, but also a small, white craft reminiscent of the larger ship, but so small it barely reached the engine level of the viper, and lay flat almost like a metal sled on the deck. Chief Barstol's people were already pulling the Viper in, but he obviously didn't know what to do with the strange little ship, until it lifted gently, without any obvious means of propulsion other than a faint shimmer in the air around it, and floated forward.

Barstol, being pragmatic, guided it to an empty point in the middle of the hangar.

"Well, let's go meet our aliens," he said. "Watchdog, be good."

Kyveli said nothing, but Barris snorted as if the mere idea was ludicrous.

With the commander in the lead, the group left the control room and walked into the hangar, where several of the knuckle-draggers had stopped their work to stare at what even to Delapina appeared to be an impossible design for any space-going vehicle. It was simply too small to contain any systems to keep someone alive.

A side door opened and a relatively attractive woman in her mid-thirties climbed out. She wore an ankle-length dress of what looked like a natural fiber weave. In fact, it looked somewhat primitive to his eyes, like a traditional Tauron or Gemonese dress. She wore her shoulder-length auburn hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked around the deck with a strange mix of emotions obvious on her face. Anxiety, happiness, fear and a touch of hope.

Finally, she saw the party approaching and gave a disarming smile. "Are you the…leader? I don't know how fleet rankings work."

"Commander Chrysanthos Delapina," the Commander said formally.

"Brenda Laird, from Antigona, second northern continent of Caprica."

"Brenda, why did they send you alone?"

She blinked, looked over her shoulder, and then smiled disarmingly. "Oh, right. Um, well, you see, it's bigger on the inside."

"What?" Delapina asked flatly.

To his surprise, two other people climbed out of an object that could barely even hold one. He felt a surge of fear when one of them wore a long, gray cloak with a cowl so heavy and large it completely hid the occupant's face. The second man wore an odd uniform, almost as if he were a steward on an inter-colonial luxury liner. The only insignia was a lapel that looked like crossed sticks in front of a flaming bird.

"That's Admiral Potter, and the woman in the strange robe is Miriam Margoline. That was the robe they all wore when they rescued us from the transport. I think they're like environmental or space suits or something."

"Rescued you?" Watchdog asked.

Brenda very quickly told them her tale while the two strange newcomers approached, looking around the hanger with wide eyes. When he finally looked at the party waiting, his eyes latched onto Delapina immediately, seeming to recognize him as the leader.

"Admiral, huh?" Delapina asked. "He looks like a kid."

The commander realized he'd slipped when Potter frowned, having obviously understood enough. Before he could say something, however, one of Barris's marines stepped out of formation, swung his carbine up, and started shooting.

It happened so fast Delapina could only stand and gape as one of his marines opened fire on the two aliens, and the woman called Brenda. Of course, that wasn't the strange part, really. No, the really strange part was when Admiral Potter saw the attack coming because of his angle, flicked a stick into his hand, and then somehow created some type of energy shielding that stopped the barrage of bullets just inches away from he and the woman in the weird robe.

Meanwhile, the hidden figure in the cloak used a similar stick and launched some form of EM pulse, judging from its visible light, toward the marine. The light struck the marine and sent him spinning like a top right over the other marines.

"Hold your fire!" Barris's frantic screams finally penetrated Delapina's mind through the fog of shock.

The marines all looked like taut strings, just ready to be plucked. The deck crew had taken shelter behind whatever they could get, while a few of the on-call pilots had drawn their side arms and approached the exchange.

"Who in Hades ordered that man to fire?" the Commander shouted.

"No one, sir, Doyle just fired," Barris said as he jogged over to the fallen man and checked his pulse. "He's dead."

"Not…right," Potter said aloud, obviously struggling with the language. "Make sleep only. Not kill!"

"I need to check his brain," the cloaked person said in much better Caprican standard, though she too was heavily accented.

"What?" Barris said.

"Oh, OH!" Laird said. "Commander, the Cylons look like us! There was a woman—Shihu. She died on their ship, something about how it runs. They told us later she was a Cylon."

"I can check his brain now," the cloaked person said.

The two hadn't fired on anyone else, though both looked ready with their odd, stick-like weapons. "Major, step aside. If there are Cylon spies on this ship, by the Gods I need to know it."

The marines did not look happy, but Barris stood and backed away as Margoline walked to him. She said something to Potter, who merely nodded. With that same stick-weapon, she pointed at Doyle's head. Delapina braced himself for some bloody work, but blinked in surprise when, instead, a perfect holographic image of the dead man's brain appeared in the air above him.

Potter walked toward the body and motioned Delapina to join him. Squatting down, he pointed to something the Commander could only see as he got closer. "What is that?"

"Cylon," Potter said grimly. "Radio."

Delapina stood, shaking, before running to the nearest phone. "This is the Commander. Get me the XO, right now!"

Seconds later, Lieutenant Commander Saspit answered. "Yes, sir?"

"We may have Cylons coming any minute. Where are we?"

"We just disconnected the number four pod."

"It's the one that took the direct hit, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Abandon it and get your people back inside. We're going to have to jump."

The lights overhead flashed red. " _Multiple Dradis contacts inbound,_ " Machiala's voice announced over the intercome. "Commander to the bridge."

Potter, meanwhile, was looking down and talking at a…a mirror? His people had strange technology. He looked up and saw Delapina. "Can come?" he asked.

"Why the hell not?" the commander said. "Major Barris, stay with our other guests. Admiral, this way."

It was hard for a man in his forties, having gone with no more than three or four hours of sleep for over a month, to sprint the length of a battlestar. But he did it, and Potter kept right on his heels. He arrived at the CIC and saw with relief that more of the third-watch crew had taken stations, since they were all now the first watch.

"Sitrep?" he snapped the moment he arrived.

"Twenty inbound Cylon raiders and one Cylon heavy just outside the asteroid belt. Alien vessel has taken a flanking position to port. Snake is acting CAG, all other birds in the air."

"Yeah, all eleven of them," Watchdog growled angrily.

Delapina pulled on his headset and looked up at the overhead monitors—the two that were still working. "Get the spinners up, we're jumping."

"Coordinates, sir?" Machiala said.

Potter came around, and to Delapina's surprise flicked his stick and tapped a point in the Helios Gamma quadrant. "Help is there," he said.

"Time to jump?"

"Five minutes from cold start!" Machiala said.

"All guns hot, prepare for combat!"

He looked back, expecting to see Potter talking on his…mirror. But he was gone. "Where'd he go?"

The rest of the CIC looked up from the six consoles that actually worked. "Where did he go?" Delapina demanded again.

"CIC, this is Barris," a new signal cut into Delapina's headset. "The cloaked figure and their so called ship are gone."

"What about the civilian?"

"She's here, and a little freaked."

" _Asteria, this is Snake._ _Alien ship is exhibiting fast, non-ballistic motion and appears to be…holy frak! Frak my mother with a raptor, did anyone else see that? What the hell…"_

"Snake, shut the hell up and tell us what you're looking at!" Watchdog snapped angrily from Delapina's side.

" _Asteria, the base star is gone! Frakking blown away. The alien ship did…something, and the base star is gone. Raiders have jumped away. Repeat, raiders have jumped away."_

Delapina stared at his CAG for a moment, too confused to be frightened or scared, until her eyes widened and she stared at something over his shoulder. He spun around, and Potter was there, as if he'd never left. "Buy us time," Potter said. "Not long. Will be back. Go now, to help."

He pointed to the Helios Gamma sector again. "Save what you can. Go there."

"How did you…"

Potter shook his head. "Need you. Your people can't stay ship on. Get sick. You must come, save them."

With that, Potter simply disappeared.

"What the frak is going on?" Watchdog demanded.

"I have no idea," Delapina said. "But I know this position has been made. XO, this is the Commander. Do a speed salvage, as much as you can get from engine pod four in half an hour, then we're jumping."

"To where?" Watchdog asked.

"Helios Gamma," the Commander said. "And pray the Lords of Kobol are with us."


	21. Alien Language

A/N: Chap twenty review responses are in my files. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-One: Alien Language**

August 22, 2013 (Day 39 CH)

"No DRADIS contacts," Michiala said from her station. "Then again, we couldn't see them last time, either."

Delapina looked to their guest, Brenda Laird. The woman had her arms crossed under her chest with a pensive look on her face. She was separated from her children and now from those who had rescued her. He understood why she was nervous.

"So, what can you tell me about them?" he asked the young woman.

"I don't remember them coming aboard the _Scylla_ ," she said. "I must have passed out. We were running out of air and hadn't eaten in days. When I woke up, we were in a white-walled room hooked up to an IV as if I were back in a hospital on Caprica."

Her eyes took on a slightly distant gaze. "They used sticks, just like Admiral Potter did in your hangar. The sticks seemed like they could do anything. But I don't think they realized I was watching. They tried to keep it hidden. Their doctors didn't speak any language I'd ever heard of. They wore masks and gloves, and every time they came or went, it was through a decontamination chamber."

"Did they hurt any of you?"

Laird shook her head. "They saved our lives. They fed us good, fresh food. Nuts, vegetables and fruits I'd never heard of before, but were delicious. Bread and a soft cheese and…they saved us. After the _Pegasus_ came and took my husband and the other men from the ships, and shot some of the families for protesting, I thought we were done."

Commander Delapina tried not to think about Admiral Helena Cain's choices. The woman was a hard-ass of the first order, and he considered it a great boon to his career that he never had to work with her before. But intentionally shooting civilians, even during a time of war, was a capital offense in most cases.

"I don't think the others noticed everything, like how the room got bigger one day," Laird continued. "They tried to pretend nothing happened, but one day it took twenty paces to cross the room, and the next it took sixty. It was suddenly large enough to divide into living spaces for us. They gave us all clothes, and even chocolate, but never let any of us out of that room. I was the first person to leave it. But…they led me to a closet, and when I walked out of the other side, I think I was in a different ship."

"Why do you say that?" Delapina's XO, Horace Saspit, had more than ten years on Delapina, but had never had the drive or ambition to reach above lieutenant commander. He looked at the young civilian with a grandfatherly smile.

"Different uniforms, the corridors were shaped different, with different paint. And they sounded different. Almost like a different…accent to their language. I learned a little bit of it. I think…I think they're lost, Commander. Just like we are."

The door to the CIC opened and Lieutenant Charles "Snake" Carsons strolled in, a data chip in hand. "Copy of my cockpit recording as ordered, Commander," he said after a brief salute.

"Pop it in, Snake," Delapina ordered.

Snake came to stand by the commander, as did Brenda Laird, while the cockpit recording of the incident forty minutes ago began to play on one of the two working overhead monitors. The footage was shaky, taken from the perspective of the pilot. They saw brief glimpses of the distant Cylon base star, along with dozens and dozens of small spots that were enemy raiders, all coming toward them.

Then they saw a strange streak of almost white light, and for one frame the alien ship was both beside Snake and far in front of them. Delapina slowed the recording down to make sure, since the cockpit recorder ran at nearly half a million frames per second on average. For the ship to still appear in two places in one frame meant that the ship was not just going faster than light, but well over it.

The resulting release of energy suddenly made sense. The billow of plasma vaporized half of the base star and severely damaged the remaining portion, sending it flaming and tumbling away before its' own shattered interior exploded. The shockwave of the energy released scattered the raiders, destroying many and sending the rest scampering away.

"What the hell was that?" Snake said.

"A Relativistic Kill Vehicle." Saspit said it with his jaw gaping in awe. "One of the many things we played around with during the first war. The problem was we couldn't get the energy and speed ratio mix right. The amount of energy needed to approach even a fraction of _C_ was so great we could launch a thousand heavy nukes and still have enough left over to build a battlestar. How in Hades can those people do a linear acceleration past _C_ like that? It should not by physically possible."

"Any more possible than fitting three people into a cubic meter of space," Delapina said, thinking of their small shuttle.

"Or making a quarantine room bigger," Brenda Laird pointed out. "I know it sounds crazy, but I really do think they're Lords of Kobol."

Before anyone else could respond to that statement, Delapina's headset beeped. "Asteria _, Watchdog_. _Tally alien bogeys. Count three ships; repeat, three ships. Two smaller ones, one dome each like what we saw before. Third is larger with two domes. Two hundred thousand meters at coordinates 22.34 carem 45.89."_

"Might as well be ten SUs out, Commander," Saspit muttered. "We can barely steer with the distribution of our engine pods."

"Con, do your best," Delapina called over his XO's shoulder.

"Aye, sir. Sublights one and two on one quarter thrust to coordinates 22.34 carem 45.89. We may have to make a few loops to get there."

"Asteria, _Watchdog. Three bogies have left the largest ship. CBDR. No, wait. Bogies have slowed and are flashing lights at us. I think they're knocking, Commander."_

"Show them the door, Watchdog," Delapina said.

" _Yes, sir._ "

"Well, here we go," Saspit said dryly.

"Can…can I come with you, Commander?" Laird asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Laird, I think that would be a good idea."

Once again he found Major Barris there with a contingent of marines. Despite what happened last time, Delapina could only nod. The rest of the hangar stood by in tense silence. They'd all heard of what happened with the Cylon basestar and now the whole ship was caught up in a tug of war between hope and dread. What if the aliens were worse than the Cylons? What if they _were_ Cylons?

The elevator came down holding three of the odd, small sleds, which once again lifted without any evidence of propulsion from the elevator floor and moved into the hangar. The first one's door opened and Delapina tensed for whoever might come out. Probably Potter.

Instead, two little girls climbed out.

"Mommy!" the larger one screamed. They both ran full tilt right into the arms of a suddenly sobbing Brenda Laird. Delapina stood, beyond flabbergasted, as more children climbed out of a sled that could only physically have held one person, numbering almost twenty in all. The last to climb out was Admiral Potter.

The other two sleds opened up to reveal equally impossible numbers of children. Some, Delapina noted, looked pale and drawn, as if sickly. Most stood around the sleds, staring about the hangar with wide eyes.

Potter walked directly to the commander and had the grace to give a sheepish smile. "Surprise," he said in Caprican.

"Admiral Potter, why are these children here?" That wasn't what Delapina wanted to ask. He really wanted to ask how the children all fit into those tiny sleds. It was one thing to have a civilian talk about something being bigger on the inside than on the outside, but it was something far different to see it in practice.

"Our engines make them sick," Admiral Potter said. "Children at bigger risk. Need to be here. More will come."

"Damn I wish we could communicate better," Saspit muttered.

"We're running low on food and water. More importantly, this is a war ship," Delapina said, hoping Potter understood.

Fortunately, the young so-called admiral nodded. "More food come. Water not a problem. Can make water. Please, people need to be here or will die. Your people."

Delapina looked at where Brenda Laird was holding her two pale, sickly daughters. "How many?" he asked Laird.

"Two hundred, twenty-seven," she said without hesitation. "The other one was the Cylon spy who died."

Potter shook his head and pointed back to the kids. "Less. Timmy Chanko died. Why we did not wait. Engines make them sick faster than we thought. More coming, soon."

"Commander," Saspit said, slipping once more into the grandfatherly persona that made him such a liked but weak XO. "We lost half our crew. We have space available. If these aliens help with food and…"

"It was never in question, Horace," Delapina admitted with a tired sigh. He looked to Potter and nodded. "Bring them all."

Potter turned and made a circular motion with his hand. Abruptly, the three sleds were simply gone with pops of displaced air. Some of the children cried in alarm. Saspit walked to the nearest phone. "CIC, this is the XO. We need the quartermaster in the hangar deck ASAP."

As the _Asteria_ made a slow, looping approach that was the result of only having sublight engines on the port side of the ship, the odd, impossible little sleds returned again and again, each time bringing twelve adults or twenty children, until soon over two hundred weary civilians were camped out in the middle of the hangar deck.

What really piqued the commander's interest, though, was the three-ton crate that some of the hangar crew found tucked away in an empty Viper bay. When the marines reported it, ready for a bomb or enemy soldiers, Potter (who had remained aboard the entire time) said, "Food. Water. Clothes."

To illustrate, he walked to the crates and popped it open, revealing oddly anachronistic woven baskets filled with fruits, vegetables, nuts and breads.

The stressed quartermaster saw the food and almost fainted at the sight. It was the only good news the poor woman had had since the holocaust. Delapina watched the whole thing with so many questions burning in his mind it was almost impossible to concentrate. He'd come to realize that the aliens, whom he still didn't know what to call, had some form of teleportation. It was the only thing that could explain the repeated disappearance of the sheds as they dropped people off. It was also the only way to explain the crate.

The Colonials used jump drives because it was not possible for them to generate the energy necessary to approach the speed of light without the energy and mass ripping their ships apart. The jump drive was a sometimes dangerous end-run on the laws of physics, in which they momentarily moved space itself, rather than their ships. But these aliens obviously had some method of manipulating mass and energy, since there was no way they could do what they did otherwise.

After all the civilians were transferred and sorted into the billets once occupied by Delapina's dead crewmembers, he, Saspit and their guest went to the CIC. It was there where Potter started pointing at their little monitor again. "Survivors like you," he said, repeatedly at each spot around the system he pointed to. "Get them. Need your help."

"Admiral Potter, this ship has no maneuverability; it is not fit to gather anyone until we have a chance to do some repairs," Delapina pointed out.

Potter nodded—it seemed obvious he could understand far more than he could say. "You come on my ship. Talk to them."

"Didn't he say his engines made people sick?" Saspit said.

Potter shook his head. "Children more vulnerable. Okay for weeks. All time we need to save people. Your people."

The worst part is, Delapina could see exactly why Potter wanted him—it was the same reason he used Brenda Laird. He needed a native speaker to communicate clearly. Having a uniformed speaker would do even better. He considered sending Machiala instead, but dismissed the notion. Right now, they needed to get the ship where it could at least fly in a straight line. Saspit may not have been the best XO in the Colonies, but he was an able engineer.

"Horace, I'm going to go with him." He finally decided. "Machiala can stand as your acting XO. Get those engine pods configured and execute as many repairs as we can until I'm back."

"You sure about this, Chrys?"

"Not even remotely," Delapina said with a dry smile. "But from what Mrs. Laird told us, there are a lot of desperate, frightened people floating on the edge of the System. Maybe we can still do some good."

After that conversation, he went back to his quarters to pack his old, standard issue fleet duffle bag with a week's worth of clothes—some of which were not exactly clean, plus his personal toiletries. He locked the cabin down, tossed the keys to Saspit, and then nodded to Potter. The young alien admiral fell in beside him, not bothering to say much.

Back at the hangar, things were blessedly starting to get back to normal now that the civvies were squared away. Major Barris stood near a raptor with a single marine, a young woman whose name escaped Delapina at the moment.

"Commander," Barris said with a snap salute. "Sergeant Dania Festis will be accompanying you."

"Regulations?" Delapina asked with a wry smile.

"Looked 'em up myself, sir," Barris said.

"Sergeant, you have your gear ready?"

"Sir! Yes, sir," the young sergeant snapped. "In the Raptor, sir."

Delapina glanced at Potter to gauge his reaction. The young man seemed to understand the situation and shrugged. "Okay," he said.

Delapina led the way into the Raptor which would transport them to the alien ships. The young marine stowed herself in the back, while Potter moved forward and took the co-pilot's seat. He was looking about the cockpit with wide, excited eyes, as if everything was new to him. He leaned forward with a delighted expression as the hangar crew towed the raptor onto the elevator that would take them to the flight deck, and laughed at the weightlessness once they started.

Once on their way, he pointed to the largest of the three strange, alien craft. Specifically, to one end. "Go there," he said, just to be clear.

Delapina nodded and flew the raptor toward the indicated area of the ship. Aside from gun placements, which looked not too dissimilar to the KEWs the _Asteria_ used, the hulls were perfectly smooth. However, as he got closer he saw that in fact the domes were geodesic in design, using smaller triangular plates locked together to form the larger dome. He couldn't say why that little fact made him feel better. The overall shape was alien, but the construction details were familiar.

However, when he saw the hangar, any warm feelings that might have come from a familiar element of design in the alien ship faded. The so-called hangar was ridiculously small, so much so he began to wonder if the Raptor would even fit.

"That's a small opening," he noted aloud. "Won't it kill our engines?"

"No, made engine field small. Okay. Opening fine." Potter grinned and made an inch space with his fingers.

"Sergeant, strap in, this might be a bumpy landing."

"Yes, sir."

Slowing down to just a few meters per minute, Delapina inched the Raptor into the brightly lit hangar. He could see the three sleds on the far side of a room which barely contained the raptor itself. There was no evidence of an elevator or a larger facility at all—the entire hangar consisted of a single room.

He looked at Potter, who was already moving toward the door. He fumbled about with it a moment before looking to the young sergeant. "How you open?"

"Sir?" the dutiful marine asked Delapina.

"Go ahead, Sergeant. I'm doing my post-flight checklist."

The sergeant showed Potter how to open the door, and despite the rudimentary hangar, they did not all immediately decompress and die. The commander finished his checklist, grabbed his duffel, and followed the two out of the raptor.

While Potter and his people were met by armed marines, Delapina was met by a tall, shapely woman who looked close to his age and carried it well, a shorter, squatter woman with frighteningly frizzy black hair in a familiar gray cloak, and a beautiful, stately woman with light brown hair and dark, piercing eyes. She wore a long, blue-and-white striped dress with a white apron over it, in stark contrast to the first woman who wore a uniform identical to Potter's.

"Dinah Patterson," Potter said, pointing to the first woman. "She…commander of ship. Like you. That Miriam Margoline. She speak better. That Andromeda Tonks, doctor."

"Good day, Commander," the woman with the frightening black hair and nose wart said in passible Caprican. "We need to check your health. Will not hurt. Okay?"

"Check my health?" Delapina asked, confused.

"So you don't make us sick," Potter explained.

"Fine," Delapina said, nodding to make sure his meaning was clear.

The beautiful matron stepped forward and touched his forehead with a stick.

She did the same with the startled marine before stepping back and saying something in a truly alien language. Delapina's gut twisted at hearing confirmation that these were not Colonials. He only spoke three languages, but had training enough to recognize all forty three living Colonial languages, and the twelve original variants that preceded them.

"Okay, you clear," Harry said with a smile.

"What did she do?"

"You healthy," was all Potter could say. "Come now."

He led them through a door out of the plain, dull-white walled room and into a surprisingly crowded hallway. Festis walked right on his heels looking about with wide dark eyes. The ship's commander, Patterson, walked with them.

Many of the people were in uniforms similar to Potter's, but just as many weren't. The array of clothing styles defied description, ranging from something as ordinary as a suite and tie to a strange, violently orange dress a man wore over his slacks. They stared back at the two Colonials with the same fascination Delapina himself felt.

Finally they arrived at a series of huge black boxes built right into a wall, each surrounded by a shimmering ring of red light. Potter pointed to the first box. "Through here." He then stepped through the ring and into the open box as if to illustrate.

With a glance around, Delapina followed with Festis a step behind. The door closed behind them, and for a split second they were in darkness, until the back wall opened onto another hall.

Delapina realized then what Brenda Laird meant. They were on a completely _different_ ship.

The halls were narrower, with inward curves at the top. The finish was not as smooth. Most importantly, though, the halls were not nearly as crowded. Those he saw wore a different uniform, one with a full waist jacket rather than the half-jacket Potter and his crew wore.

They walked through the ship until they came into an area that just screamed _CIC_. In the middle of it, a tall, broad-shouldered black man in uniform stood from a chair set off one side that could look at the whole room, and offered his hand with a grin.

"This Marcus White, ship commander," Potter said. "This his ship. We go find your people."

Delapina stared from the large commander to Potter. "You're the admiral in charge of all three ships?"

Potter nodded with a young-looking smile. Delapina looked again to the older, harder, more-experienced looking commander, who suddenly started laughing as he understood what the Colonial was saying, even if he didn't have the words to say it.

Potter, too, understood and rolled his eyes. "Older than look," the man said. "Save your people now, right?"

Delapina laughed himself. "Right."


	22. Paranoia

A/N: Schools out. Gods preserve us from bored teenagers.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Two: Paranoia**

September 15, 2013 (Daye 60 CH)

Hermione sighed in relief as she leaned back against Harry in their conjured tub with conjured hot water. He'd just finished rubbing the Vitamin E oil on her distended belly. "Four more weeks," she whispered.

Harry kissed the top of her head and simply held her. It was the first time he'd seen his wife in weeks, and he was not going to do anything to ruin the moment. His hands rested at the top of the bulge where his soon-to-be son was growing and kicking, while her now matronly breasts rested on the backs of his hands. The water was the perfect temperature, the tub was expanded to the perfect size, and for this one moment the only two people who existed in the universe were he and his Hermione.

"Parvati is pregnant," Hermione said lazily as she played with the back of his hand.

"Oh? Who's the lucky man?"

"Daniel Webber."

Harry frowned. "What happened to him and Padma? Did they divorce?"

"No. She sorta of…joined them. It's generated quite the rumor mill, but evidently because Padma can't have children, she asked her twin to have her husband's children as kind of a surrogate, only one who's now part of the family."

Harry rested his chin on her head and stared into space. "Of all the men in the world who dreamed of getting both the Patil twins, it's a skinny nerd from America."

She slapped his hand, but not hard. "Shush, you. It's been really hard for Padma since she found out she was infertile. This isn't a joke to them."

"I know, love."

He could hear her smile—a slight, barely audible _pop_ from the corner of her lips as they curled up. It was a sound he had come to adore over the years, since she was not one to smile casually. "Do you remember Buckbeak? Third year, when we rode him together?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed, taken back by that unnaturally long, terrifying, exhilarating day.

"All the summer after, I used to have naughty dreams of you holding me, just like you are now. I wish—oh how I wish we didn't wait so long."

Harry kissed her head again. "You know, I'm pretty sure I would have messed it up if we tried any earlier. Just like I pushed away Ginny, or Parvati, or everyone else. I didn't know how to be loved, Hermione. I had to do a lot of growing up before I realized just what it meant to really love someone. And damn if it wasn't worth the wait!"

"You're just saying that because you have my boobs in your hands."

"Well, it certainly reaffirms the decision," Harry said with a chuckle.

She took one of her milk-enlarged breasts, and then let it plop like a heavy water balloon on his hand, complete with a _"Sploosh"_ sound effect. "Cassandra came by a few times while you were gone with the Colonials," she said.

"Oh?" The seer was a special sore point between them, even now. Of all the woman among the refugee fleet, even taking into account the ridiculously beautiful Gabriella Delacour, Hermione considered the rather plain-looking Cassandra Appolline the only legitimate threat to her marriage with Harry. Perhaps, as she noted once, Cassandra did remind them both very much of their dear, lost friend Luna.

"I wonder, if I'd had her as a teacher, if I would have appreciated Divination more."

It was quite the admission from his staunchly pragmatic wife, Harry thought. "Well, it would have been odd to have her as a teacher seeing as she's a year younger than us. Which was a shock when I found out, believe me."

"She does look and act older," Hermione agreed. "Anyway, she's been coming by for tea. First, I think it was to try and explain. She's had a crush on you her whole life, I think. But then we started talking about astrophysics, and I must admit the woman is remarkably intelligent."

Harry wisely chose not to say anything. Instead, he contented himself with cupping her breasts.

"She believes that another large group of Colonials has fled the system, maybe tens of thousands. And she thinks the Cylons are following them."

That, sadly, was not a surprise. Cassandra could not see the Cylons with magic, but then again it didn't take Divination to know the Cylons would pursue their enemies. "The Muggle commander, Delapina, was asking about where to go. I suppose we have a course, now."

"She said that she and Margoline have almost finished a language potion, too."

Harry blinked. "There's a potion for language?"

Her tired sigh told him he'd admitted to another bit of ignorance she found embarrassing. "Yes, Harry, there are potions for language. It's very similar to a penseive memory. It must be crafted from the memories of someone who knows the language to be learned, as well as the native language of the person taking the potion. When they're done, you won't need to depend on a native spokesperson."

"That'll be good."

"Yes, because Cassandra wants you to get something for her. She wants a copy of their Sacred Scrolls, which is their version of a bible. She says it's really important."

"Okay, I can do that," Harry said. "I'm going to be meeting the leaders of the Colonial refugees tomorrow afternoon anyway. I'll just ask."

"Good. Now, I'm starting to wrinkle. Help me out, please?"

Employing one of the few wandless tricks he knew, Harry levitated her out of the tub before following himself. And then, to her delight, he very slowly and luxuriously toweled her off, making sure to dry every possible nook and cranny.

It was good to be Hermione's husband, Harry reflected with a happy grin.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Colonel Taniella Hasters was a tough woman. Even Admiral Cain commented on her tenacity when she recommended Hasters for the _Notus_. It took toughness to serve on the old _Orion_ battlestars. The "Pocket" Battlestars, as they were called, were a fraction of the size of their larger cousins, with a proportionate reduction in their armaments. Because of the small size of both the ship and crew, everyone had to know at least two jobs, and be decent at a third.

Serving on an _Orion_ was either a punishment, or a test for greater commands to come. For Taniella, it was a test. When she received the first word of the Cylon Attack, she jumped the ship from its assigned patrol route. Doing so saved the lives of herself and her crew, because within mere seconds of jumping away, her remote buoy detected two dozen Cylon raiders jumping into that very spot. Somehow the Cylon's had hacked into the defense mainframes and knew the flight plans and relative positions of every ship in the fleet.

The _Notus_ did not have the firepower to take on a base star without receiving significant damage, but she had a flight of twelve planes, two raptors, and a munitions room filled with missiles. So the _Notus_ began a campaign of hit-and-run tactics against any targets of opportunity they could find. All that changed, however, when they came across a Tylium freighter, four civilian cruise liners and a massively over-matched, burning _Defender_ -type frigate attempting to fight off an attack by twenty raiders.

Hasters did not hesitate—the Tylium alone was worth the risk. The _Notus_ laid into the fight with everything it had, and at first it looked like they were going to win. But then the basestar arrived, and with it a hundred and fifty more raiders.

That's when Admiral Potter arrived with his alien ship and alien weapons.

The blast which destroyed the basestar fried many of the _Notus'_ s external vid feeds, but unlike most battlestars the _Notus_ did not have a CIC, it had a bridge. And that bridge had viewports. Hasters watched with her own eyes as the metallic-white of the alien ship appeared in a streak of blue-white light and unleased a wild, uncontrolled burst of plasma energy that devastated the basestar and most of the raiders that were still around it.

A weak radio signal announced that a Colonial officer was on board the alien vessel, but even then Hasters knew their savior was no Colonial.

Time had not changed anything. It was a relief to know that at least one Battlestar survived, even if it was a smaller _Valkyrie_ -class. But Commander Delapina's new allies just bothered her on a fundamental level. Almost immediately Delapina transferred to her ship under the excuse that the alien ship's power source could be harmful. The alien commander, just a kid who claimed to be an Admiral, spoke their language so poorly she couldn't even frame all the questions she had, much less expect an intelligent response.

And she had so many questions. Who was Potter? Where did he or his people come from? The commander accepted Potter at his word—that they were human. But what Hasters saw were impossible coincidences. Why did Potter just suddenly arrive in a ship capable of obliterating Cylons just _after_ the Cylons obliterated the colonies? If they had arrived just weeks earlier, could they have stopped it?

 _Would they?_

That last question was what drove Hasters. She was not convinced of Potter's seeming altruism. Just the opposite—she was absolutely convinced that his appearance, with his ship, was some ulterior plot by the Cylons themselves. After all, scuttlebutt was that at the end of the last war, Cylons were abducting people and doing horrid experiments on them. Is that why they were gathering survivors together now?

Most frustrating of all is that Delapina refused to see it. The man outranked her, but he was soft. He let civilian women and children live on his ship, for the gods sake! He should have been out harrying the enemy, but instead he was housing a make-shift school on the outskirts of the system while taking joy-rides in the alien's ship.

Assuming, of course, that it was Delapina at all.

"This isn't a good idea, Hasters," Colonel Mark Petrie said.

Petrie was also soft, with a bulge around his middle that Admiral Cain would never have tolerated. But his was the softness of repose brought about by the decades of armistice. When the fight started, he proved himself in Taniella's eyes by putting his small frigate between the enemy and the tylium. It never dawned on her that he might have been defending the civilians, and he didn't bother to correct her.

The colonels disembarked from their raptors with a total of eight marines for escort, four each from their respective ships. Delapina's dotty old XO stood at the end of the floor to greet them.

"It's the only way to get answers," she said under her breath. "You've already agreed. There are just too many coincidences. And it's obvious the commander has been compromised."

"And if he hasn't been, then we have acted against a ranking officer on board his own ship against a potential alien head of state," Petrie pointed out. "He could have us both shot."

"It'll be worth it to know for sure," Hasters countered.

Petrie did not look convinced, but the time for talking about it was done. He'd already cast his bones, and the game was afoot. He had no choice but to play along.

Lieutenant Commander Horace Saspit gave them both his patented, slightly vapid smile. "Colonel Hasters, Colonel Petrie, welcome aboard the _Asteria_. I can't tell you how excited we were when your ships arrived."

"It's a pleasure to be here, Lieutenant Commander," Hasters said, taking the lead as senior officer. "I was sorry to hear about Colonel Alliard. Susand was a great officer."

Saspit frowned sadly, as if by rote. "That she was. I wish I could say I've filled her shoes adequately, but I'll be the first to admit I never will. This way, please. Commander Delapina has lunch waiting."

Saspit, Hasters decided, was even softer than Delapina.

They left the hangar deck. While they made their way through the relatively spacious halls of the larger Battlestar, Hasters saw a woman walk by in civilian dress carrying a clipboard. Walking behind her, whispering loudly, were two children.

"So the kids get free run of the ship?" she asked pointedly

Saspit shrugged. "Not all of it, but it's not healthy to keep kids cooped up in the same space for long. Some of the older ones have even helped out with chores like laundry and mess hall duty with their mothers, now that our water stores have been replenished. It's cute, really, and they are providing a service since we lost so many hands during the initial attack."

"There are civilian liners in our group now," Hasters said casually. "I'm surprised you haven't transferred them."

"That's something to keep in mind," Saspit said vaguely.

Hasters gave an equally vague smile, while in her mind she spat at the fool in contempt. They reached the executive conference room down the hall from the ship's CIC. The term "executive" was applied literally, since only executive officers used the small space.

Delapina sat at the table inside, but stood to meet them. "Colonels," he said.

The two colonels saluted first, and the Commander returned the salutes accordingly before offering his hand.

"Taniella, thank you for coming over. And you, Mark. Help yourselves to some lunch while we wait. Potter is on his way over."

Hasters nodded gracefully but only put a few of the odd, alien nuts and fruits on the small plate, and a glass of water. She never ate before a fight. She noted with just the hint of a frown that Petrie showed no such restraint. The _Defender_ -class ships did not have long-haul provisions. His people were hungry; he obviously was too.

The marines, following pre-existing orders, took up stations on either side of the door, just outside. "Expecting trouble, Taniella?" Delapina said with a nod to the marines.

"My XO insisted," she shrugged. "There are rumors of Cylon plants."

"We had one," Delapina confirmed. "Serving as a marine."

The wall phone rang. Delapina stood and answered it, nodding as he did so. "Potter's landed and is on his way."

"So, tell me Chrys," Hasters began carefully. "While you were over on their ship, did you get a chance to see inside those domes of theirs?"

"No," he said. "I had access to a guest suite with its own head, and their CIC. That's it."

"That's strange," Hasters noted. "Most allies would be proud to give a tour."

"Supposedly they use a power source that's dangerous for us."

Hasters stared. "They're human. Why isn't it dangerous for them?"

Delapina shrugged nonchalantly. "Until we learn their language better, we may never know. I can tell you the script they use is unlike anything I've seen. Their computer and control systems are also strange. I saw keyboards not too different than what we use next to large pads filled with symbols and stones that they moved around like game pieces. It isn't a fake language, but it isn't any language I've ever even heard of."

The Commander was obviously convinced the people were authentic. But how hard would it be for machines to fabricate a language? She knew of teledrams where producers and writers created whole new alien languages just for entertainment.

She had not actually met Potter before—Delapina had done all the speaking for them during their trip back to the rendezvous point. She had seen him from a distance, but that was all. Aside from being far, far too young to have any real authority, he was short—only a few inches taller than she was—with a wiry strength that spoke of decent but not extreme conditioning.

This was going to be easier than she thought.

The moment he stepped through into the conference room, smiling and holding his hand out to greet Delapina, the eight marines outside swung into the room to tackle Potter to the ground. Their entry was, unfortunately, the last thing that went right in what should have been a simple, straightforward op.

The moment the first marine grabbed Potter, a bright flash blew the eight marines, Delapina, Petrie and Hasters herself back from the alien admiral. She slammed into a wall and watched as Potter spun, brandished a stick, and shot some type of energy weapon at the marines. Four dropped back to the floor, where they'd been trying to pick themselves up. The other four had already regained their feet and were bringing their weapons to bear.

Inexplicably, all four marines flew up onto the ceiling, as if the gravity plating had suddenly repolarized. They dropped their weapons in alarm, one shouting at the shock of the odd position, when suddenly they all stiffened as if paralyzed, and remained stuck against the ceiling like so many logs.

Petrie stood as if in shock and made no move to protect himself when the odd, red energy burst put him down. Hasters, though, was faster. She drew her side arm and fired four times.

Potter looked right at her as she fired, and maintained that eye-contact even after a blue energy shield appeared right in front of him and blocked all four bullets. He flicked his stick, and just like the marines Hasters found herself tossed painfully against the back wall, held as if by glue several feet off the floor. She tried to move, but all of her limbs were locked to her side, as if somehow her whole body had been petrified.

The door behind Potter slammed shut; the man didn't even look at it. Instead, those suddenly glittering, hard green eyes were surveying the room. The only person besides the alien on his feet was Delapina.

"If this is how Colonials treat their allies, I begin to see what the Cylons had against you." The words were perfectly understandable, without accent, and utterly dripping contempt.

"You do speak Caprican!" Hasters shouted, despite being unable to move.

Potter ignored her entirely. "So, Commander, is this what we get for helping you?"

"Admiral, I swear I had no idea the colonels were going to do this," Delapina said, hands held palms up. "Those are not my marines—they came aboard with Hasters and Petrie."

"Chrys, he's a frakking toaster! He has built in energy weapons and shields! You just saw it!"

With a snort, Potter stepped from the table, brandished his stick, and suddenly it was not a table any more. The whole room stared, entranced and horrified, at a huge, scaled beast with four legs, large, bat-like wings and a head dominated by a huge mouth glistening with long teeth. The beast stood, flapped its wings, and then walked right up to a terrified, now silenced Hasters. It rose up on its haunches, and doing so revealed itself to be well over three meters tall. It head brushed the ceiling and its large, reptilian eyes were above her despite her high position on the wall.

"What….what is this thing?" she gasped as a cloud of hot, sulphurous air blasted over her face.

"That, Colonel, is a dragon," Harry said dryly. "His name is Norbert. And if I so wish it, he could very easily bite your head off and eat it. Or blast fire and melt your head down, even the bone, to ash. You want to know why I can suddenly speak Caprican? Because last night I took a magic potion that taught me your language in ten minutes. That energy shield? Magical charm. A sticking charm is holding you and your marines up, while a petrifying jinx is keeping you still. I'm not a Cylon, you paranoid idiot, I'm a wizard."

The dragon pushed away from the wall and walked over to the four unconscious marines, where it managed to sit on them all at the same time with a satisfied grunt.

"A wizard?" Even faced with the evidence, Delapina sounded skeptical.

"Would you believe our engines are giant, magically charged rocks on gimbals?" Potter asked. "Technologically, your people are easily a hundred or more years ahead of us. A thousand for all I know. Our ships fly by a combination of technology and magic fused together. Where our technology fails, we use magic. That weapon we used to save you? That's not a weapon; it's a barely controlled by-product of our FTL. We normally route it back into the lodestones that drive the ship. We'd never thought to use it as a weapon until the Cylons all came after us. And while magic does nothing to us, because we _are_ magic, it acts as a dangerous radiation to you, and other humans without magic."

"Potter, that's…a lot to swallow," Delapina said.

"Do I need Norbert to swallow one of your people to make you believe me?"

"No, but a tour would help," Delapina said quickly. "Admiral, while I don't agree with what Hasters did, and as ranking officer I will address her actions personally, I understand why she did it. She's not the only one suspicious of your help and its timing. You arrived just weeks after all our worlds died, and just stepped up as a hero. It looked suspicious."

Potter sighed. "We arrived when we did, Chrys, because we stayed in orbit around our own world for a year, until the natural disaster we fled destroyed it. I watched the island of my birth crack in half and drown in an ocean of lava. We stayed until every one of us realized we had no choice but to leave. You want to know why I decided to help you? Because we're in the same damned position. I have just over 80,000 people who are the last and only survivors of a world of almost seven billion. That's why we're helping you, Commander."

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

Potter left, obviously still furious but keeping further opinions to himself. He'd undone whatever magic he used to neutralize the eight marines before walking back to his little transport by himself.

At Delapina's orders, the eight marines of the _Notus_ and _Eleos_ were returned to their ships under armed escort. He decided not to take any action against men and women obeying the orders of their superior officers. But the two Colonels were something else entirely. Under guard from _his_ marines, he glared at the two officers with an anger he had not felt since the initial attack.

"I should have you both shot," he finally spoke after he simply couldn't contain his anger any more. "You brought marines onto my ships with orders to attack my guest. What you have done was a clear violation of half the regulations and Uniform Code we have, and in a time of war I could very easily have you shot."

"You're not going to," Taniella Hasters said without a shred of doubt or shame for her actions. "Because deep down you know I'm…"

Delapina's right hook knocked her out of her chair. "We have eye-witness testimony that Helena Cain personally ordered the execution of Colonial civilians. And I know for a fact that you're one of her hand-picked little clones, Hasters. I do not need that right now. So you will shut up, or by the Gods I will shoot you myself!"

Hasters wiped the blood from her lip and glared, but did not speak as she climbed back into her seat.

"I am ranking officer, and the moment you joined us I became your immediate superior," Delapina continued, pacing across the small conference room. "And right now, I'm not sure I can trust either of you with a command."

"You don't have the authority to take my ship!" Hasters said in a low, threatening growl.

"I'm pretty sure he does," Colonel Petrie said for the first time. "Taniella, it was a bad idea. I'll be the first to admit it. Yes, these…people scare me too. And we might have even had the right idea, but we went about dealing with it the wrong way."

Delapina watched as Taniella Hasters turned and sneered at her fellow colonel with dripping contempt. "You're a coward. A stupid, incompetent coward. If you were my XO, I would personally shoot you."

"Colonel Hasters, you're relieved of command," Delapina said, swayed by her anger into a snap decision. "Under Title 14, Section 23(c) of the Colonial Uniform Code, I find you guilty of dereliction of duty, mutiny and assault. You will remain incarcerated until I can decide what to do with you. Marines, take her to the brig."

Major Bariss nodded to a pair of his marines who took the glaring, silent Hasters from the room. "Her crew is fanatically loyal," Petrie warned. "Or trouble-makers. You know how the _Orions_ are."

"And yours?" Delapina snapped.

Petrie shrugged. "They're hungry, Commander. We were finishing up our patrol and were already low on supplies when the attack happened. Commander, I recognize that I'm in the wrong here, I do, but do you really believe that this Potter is a wizard? He might as well be a frakking Lord of Kobol. But it's more likely he's lying through his teeth and this is all some elaborate hoax."

Barris coughed. "Tell him about the sleds, Commander."

Petrie blinked. "What?"

"Their transport craft are the size of a Viper cockpit," Delapina explained. "No room for any instrumentation or propulsion systems, you'd think. When they transported the civilians over, they fit a dozen adults into those tiny little sheds, or up to twenty kids. They are larger on the inside than they are on the outside. I don't know of any science that could do that. And they have a means of teleportation. I've seen it personally."

Petrie gaped a moment before closing his mouth. "Okay, say he's telling the truth. There are a hundred and fifty people on Hasters ship that think her words come straight from Zeus's ass. They are not going to just lay down when they learn about her arrest."

"Who's Hasters' XO?"

"Major Sela Tannith."

Delapina frowned, trying to recall the name.

Saspit, who had joined him with Major Barris, however, laughed. "You don't remember the _Caerus_ scandal, do you, Chrys?"

Delapina turned back to Petrie. " _That_ Sela Tannith? I thought she was drummed out of the fleet ten years ago!"

"No, she was demoted back to a lieutenant, believe it or not, and had quietly worked her way back. She wanted to retire as a major for the pension," Petrie said. "Admiral Cain always made sure to keep her under one of her cronies, though, just in case."

"Commander, is this need to know information?" Barris asked.

Saspit, though, shrugged. "It's no secret, Major. Admiral Cain was known to indulge herself occasionally with younger female officers with potential, and Tannith didn't care for the woman's advancements. But rather than file a complaint, she tried to blackmail the Admiral."

Barris winced. "That was stupid."

"It was desperate," Petrie said. "Any complaint would have been ignored and she'd have been drummed out of the Fleet regardless. Cain had powerful friends in the last administration, and was powerful enough on her own to survive the current one."

Delapina tapped a finger on his lip in thought before turning to study Petrie.

"Mark, we just don't have enough command staff for this sort felgercarb! Last count we had less than eight thousand people in this group. I don't want us fighting among ourselves. I believe that you let yourself get talked into this—I know you risked your crew to save some of those civilians out there. If I return you to your command, will you cooperate?"

"Yes, sir, I will," Petrie said. "And I will talk to Major Tannith."

"Good. Dismissed, Colonel."

After Saspit walked Colonel Petrie out, Delapina stood staring into space for a long time. Barris cleared his throat. "Wizards, huh?"

Abruptly the command burst out laughter. "Why the frak not?"


	23. Kobol

A/N: Chap 22 review responses are in my forums like normal. And like normal, if I missed a review or question, feel free to repost it there and I'll try to get to it.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Three: Kobol**

September 19th, 2013 (Day 64 CH)

"Bill?"

The voice sounded like whisky over ice—deep and husky with a burn that pierced down through the heavy veils of his desperately needed sleep.

"Bill? You need to wake up. We have DRADIS contacts. I think Roslin might have come back."

It took near Herculean effort for Commander William Adama to even open his eyes. It wasn't just the drugs that made waking difficult, but the crusted sleep that formed from his constantly watering eyes. They weren't tears, he told himself every day. No matter how bad his chest or back hurt—the first from the bullets and surgery to fix the damage, the latter from how his spine was compressed when Doc Cottle opened his chest up—the watery eyes were not tears. But damn it made it hard to open his eyes in the morning, especially after he took the Doc's pain pills.

Still, even if his eyes weren't open, his brain was already slugging its way through the haze of the drugs. "We aren't that lucky," he said aloud.

He could hear Saul sighing with relief. Saul Tigh was Bill's friend and colleague. He'd gone to bat for him when he came back to the fleet years ago. But they both knew Tigh would never be more than an XO. He'd proven that with the mess he made of the fleet while Adama was recovering.

"Help me up," he said.

A strong arm gripped his, while a gentler hand reached behind his shoulder and helped him sit up. As he did so, Bill counted down the recent events in his mind like ticks of a doomsday clock. Sixty two days ago, the Twelve Colonies of Kobol died. Eleven days ago, a young officer her trusted proved herself to be the enemy by shooting him at point blank range in the chest—twice.

One day ago, while he was still recovering from surgery, a woman he'd come to respect rebelled against him and stole twenty-four ships, almost half his fleet, in an insane, religiously-motivated suicide-run to Kobol.

Could anyone really blame him for taking Doc Cottle's pain pills, when everything in his life was pain?

"Bill, you with me?"

With thick, arthritic hands, Adama reached up and rubbed the crusted sleep from his eyes. "Yeah. Sitrep?"

"Fifteen contacts on the edge of the DRADIS. CAP is on its way to take a look, no visual yet. Transponders are colonial."

Getting dressed was an adventure. Cottle had ordered him to wear a compression girdle to help with his chest and to keep him upright, but it made moving a pain in the ass. Saul helped him pull it on without comment, and soon enough he was presentable as he stepped onto the CIC.

"Sitrep?" he said again.

"CAP just reporting in," Dualla reported dutifully.

"Put it on speaker."

" _Galactica, this is Catman. Tally unknown contacts. They do not appear to be our missing ships. I see one Valkyrie-class and one Orion-class Battlestar, two fleet tenders, a Tylium ship and several civilian ships—and three of the weirdest-looking craft I've ever seen right in the middle of them_."

"Battlestars?" Tigh wondered aloud. "What the hell is he talking about?"

Adama pulled on a headset. "This is _Galactica_ Actual. Say again—Battlestars?"

" _Galactica_ _Actual, yes sir, I see two battlestars. Neither are in good shape, but they're flying. Hold on…incoming planes. Looks like Viper Mark IVs. Sir, I'm getting a signal from one of the…"_

The signal from the Vipers was overridden. " _This is Commander Chrysanthos Delapina_ _of the Battlestar_ Asteria _to unknown vessels. Hold at two thousand meters or you will be fired on."_

Tigh stared, jaw gaping. "Delapina? But…"

Adama turned to Dualla. "Patch me through."

"You're on," she said immediately.

"This is the BattlestarGalactica actual to _Asteria_. Transmit your security code or you will be assumed hostile."

"Sir, codes received," Lieutenant Gaeta announced enthusiastically. "The _Asteria_ and _Notus_ have both transmitted authentication codes.

" _Bill, is that you?"_ The voice over the wireless sounded familiar.

Adama closed his eyes. "Chrys, how in the hell did you survive?"

" _I shouldn't have. It's a long story and I don't want to discuss on the wireless_. _Request permission to come aboard."_

As jubilant cheers began to erupt around the CIC for the first good news the fleet had had since the colonies fell, Adama could only nod to Tigh and his strained, tired crew. "Permission granted, Commander. It'll be good to see a friendly face."

"I'll be damned," Tigh said. "Chrys Delapina. Feels like it's been forever!"

"It was eight months ago, during the last Picon debrief," Adama whispered tiredly. "Might as well have been a lifetime ago. Order a detail to the flight deck."

"Will do."

It was a long, slow walk to the hangar deck. So slow, in fact, the marine detail was already there, as were a handful of the ship's officers in hastily pulled on dress uniforms. "Commander on the deck!"

The officers snapped to attention until Adama let them stand at ease. He saw Kelly, the landing signal officer, walking quickly toward him. "Sir, two raptors inbound," he reported after a quick salute. "Catman and Kat are escorting them. ETA five minutes."

"Thank you, Captain."

Adama took the time to stand perfectly still and close his eyes, resting on his feet like he used to have to do during the long war college assemblies when he was younger. If not for the girdle, it's entirely possible he would have fallen over entirely. It was only the loud hum of the deck elevators that brought him awake in time to see two raptors lowering into view. Both were equipped with an older-model heavy-caliber automated cannon in the aft of the craft, and had the slightly longer nose and fins of older raptors.

"Wow that thing's a dinosaur," one of the pilots whispered.

Adama grunted, remembering full well flying Cylon raiders into dust with a raptor not much different.

The two vehicles were rolled off the elevator and onto the hangar floor. He could see the pilots removing their flight gear and doing flight control checks, while behind them the passengers stood.

The doors opened simultaneously, and despite having spoken to him and expected him, it was still a shock for Adama to see the rail-thin form of Chrysanthos Delapina stepping down from a raptor. A woman in her thirties with short-cropped hair and a hard look to her eyes stepped out of the second raptor. It took Adama a moment to realize he was staring at _the_ Sela Tannith, one of the few people to challenge Admiral Cain and survive the experience, even if just barely.

Behind Delapina came a man younger than either, with black hair, curious green eyes and a non-regulation uniform of dark navy slacks, white button-up and half jacket.

Delapina stopped three paces away, stood at attention, and snapped a text-book salute, as did the woman behind him. "Permission to come aboard, Commander."

"Permission granted, Commander. Damn, it's good to see you, Chrys."

He took the other man's hand. The woman's shake, when he came to her, felt strong and confident. "Commander, it's been a while."

"I see you made major, Sela. Weren't you going to retire when you did?"

"It was to be effective two weeks after the Cylons nuked the frak out of us, Bill," Tannith said with a sad shake of her head. "As I recall, you were retiring that very day."

Adama shrugged, and then looked at the third member of their party.

"Commander, may I present Admiral Harry Potter," Delapina said, motioning to the young man.

Adama raised an eyebrow, but offered a hand which the young man took. His grip, too, felt strong and sure. "Admiral of what?"

"I have no idea," Chrys said. "Can we talk in private?"

"This way," Adama said, before leading the way.

In his absence, Captain Kelley as senior officer dismissed the detail.

"Wow, I'd forgotten how much space these old monster's had," Delapina said as they walked slowly through the halls. "What's your ship status?"

"Critically undermanned. We hit Ragnar for munitions, but we've been fighting on and off since the fall trying to save the civilians we have. You?"

"We got your message and were trying to make it to Ragnar too," Delapina said. "Had twelve nukes shot at us. By some miracle only three hit, but it was enough. Knocked out our starboard engine pods, flight deck, and all long-distance wireless. If Admiral Potter hadn't come looking for us, the second Cylon wave would have taken us out."

Adama glanced at the young anomaly in their group. He looked far too young to have any type of executive officer commission. And yet, Adama saw something in the brief glance he shared that spoke an ability to make the hard call. He also looked _tired_ , with shadowy rings under his eyes and an exhausted slump to his shoulders.

They finally reached the conference room off the CIC. "We don't have any coffee," he said. "We have a protein stimulant, but it tastes pretty bad."

"No thanks, Bill," Delapina said. He glanced at the door and the two marines. "We don't want this getting out quite yet."

"Right. That'll be all, marines."

He'd been watching the newcomers, comparing what he knew of the real Chrys Delapina with the man before him. He had the exact same mannerisms, even down to the way he played with his wedding ring when walking with his hands behind his back. "So what's the story?"

"Well, I could tell you, but I think you should see it first. Is there a flight recorder player in here?"

Adama nodded and pointed to the wall left of the door. Delapina walked over and slipped in a small data chit which automatically brought up the monitor. "This was taken by one of my pilots during the second Cylon attack on the _Asteria._ "

The hateful, familiar vision of a Cylon basestar dominated the field of view, but it was partially obscured by asteroids. "Hiding in the Ort cloud? Smart."

"Most of those ships in my group were," Delapina said. "This is the good part, Bill."

Adama watched it. Then he rewound it and watched it again, and again. "What the hell was that."

"Admiral Potter's ship did a linear acceleration to four times the speed of light in the space of thirty klicks and used the energy produced as a relativistic kill weapon on the Cylon basestar."

Adama looked from Delapina to Potter. "That's impossible. Nothing can do a linear acceleration past _C_."

Potter shrugged. "We cheat." He had a definite accent, but spoke Caprican clearly.

"They're not Colonials, Bill," Delapina continued. "They were flying into the Cyrannus System when they encountered a group of civilians they saved and took in. They were coming here expecting to colonize these worlds. They never knew we were here."

Adama walked back to the table for something to lean on—his knees felt as if they were about to give out. "Are you trying to tell me this so-called Admiral Potter is an alien?"

"In the sense that he is not Colonial, yes," Delapina said.

"My world died," Potter explained, sounding tired and on the verge of yawning as he spoke. "A natural disaster. Our…navigation system implied your colonies would be a good place to come. We fled and arrived in your system hoping for a new world. When we found your people, we decided to help. But we are not alien. We are human, like you."

"Well, not entirely like us," Chrys said dryly.

Potter shrugged. "Close enough. We noticed that there is a habitable world less than a parsec away. Were you planning on recolonizing there?"

Adama looked from the young so-called admiral to his friend Delapina, then to a mystified Tigh. "I need to figure out what's going on here, now, before talking about what we're going to do. Chrys?"

Adama sat perfectly still as a man he'd known since the first war told him an impossible story of wizards and witches flying to their rescue in ships that were larger on the inside than they were on the outside, and which could not just bend the laws of physics, but piss on them as well.

Adama pulled his glasses off and rubbed his face. "I need a drink," he said when they were finished.

"I wasn't going to say anything before, but you _do_ look like shit, Commander," Major Tannith said with the same tact he remembered from his last meeting with her.

"For a man who took two bullets in the chest twelve days ago, he's doing pretty damned good," Tigh declared, indignant.

"Maybe it's your turn to catch us up, then," Chrys said with a deep frown.

Adama let Tigh do most of the talking. Instead, he found himself studying the young Potter, who studied him right back with gleaming green eyes that seemed to be looking right through him. As Tigh was finishing up with Roslin's rebellion, the young admiral reached into the small pocket of his half vest.

Adama could not help but tense in anticipation of violence. What he could not anticipate, however, was Potter removing a 750 ml bottle of what looked like ambrosia from a pocket less than two inches wide or deep. Tigh sputtered to a halt as Potter placed the bottle on the table before waving his weird stick. Five shot glasses appeared, and the young admiral began to pour.

"On Earth, we call this brandy," he said.

Adama went utterly still. "Earth, you say?"

Adama noticed that Delapina and Tannith also stared in surprise. "Earth?" Delapina said.

"Earth," Harry said with a nod as he poured. "Not much is left of it at the moment, I'm afraid. Evidently our home world had a long-term cycle of tectonic disruption caused by solar radiation. It continued to build up until, shortly before we left orbit, whole continents cracked in half and seas swallowed the land. That's why we had to leave."

Without a word, Adama took the offered shot and downed it. He had to admit it had a pleasant burn to it, but it wasn't enough to erase what the young admiral said. "We told the fleet we were going to find Earth," he said. "That we were going to find the lost Thirteenth Tribe of man."

Harry blinked at that. "Hmmm, that sounds very Mormanish, for some reason. Thing is, humanity evolved on Earth. We had a fossil record going back millions of years proving that."

"Then it must not be the Earth we're looking for," Adama declared. "Because our ancestors came from Kobol."

Harry pursed his lips. "Er, well, perhaps we can have that discussion later. It's not my intent to clash or argue religion or history with you. It's my intent to help your people, and in so doing help my own." He poured another shot for the Commander. "That said, it sounds like you have people on that planet nearby. I have people who are very interested in your history, and it sounds like this world is historically important. We would like to accompany you if you go to retrieve your people."

"What makes you think we're going to do that?" Adama said.

Potter looked him in the eye and smiled as he poured another sniff. "Was there ever any doubt, Commander?"

"Maybe. Before I make any decisions, I'm going to need to see more proof."

Potter nodded, and Adama realized despite the two older, experienced officers beside him, the young man had subtly taken charge. "You can tour our ship, of course. That was enough for Commander Delapina. We'll provide you some protection against the ambient magical fields."

Adama nodded as he accepted yet another drink. "When?"

Potter regarded him carefully. "How about now? If nothing else, I can show off Eddy."

Adama raised a brow. Down the table, Tannith chuckled. "Our admiral's wife just gave birth three days ago to a healthy baby boy."

Oddly enough, the proud gleam in the exhausted eyes relaxed Adama in a way mere words couldn't. He found something to relate too, because he was sure he looked the same way after Zac and Lee were born.

~~ _Invincible~~_

~~ _Invincible~~_

Adama had a hard time not staring. His eyes were watering again, this time from the cool breeze that carried with it all the scents of a living, breathing world. But what he saw was an impossibility—a giant, sixteen-kilometer long bowl filled with trees and crops and quaint villages as if in a recreation of a historical Tauron village. All inside a ship that was only seven hundred meters long.

Beside him, Admiral Potter skillfully adjusted his hold on his 17-month-old daughter, while his attractive but obviously exhausted wife held their days-old infant son, who was wrapped up in a tight bundle and sleeping soundly. In fact, it was the presence of so many families that struck Adama.

"You had warning," he finally said.

"Yes," Hermione Potter, the admiral's wife, said through a yawn. She too spoke perfect Caprican. "Well before any tectonic activity began, the build-up of radiation began killing off magical species and villages. We had about two years' preparation. If we'd had longer, we would have been able to save more." She sighed sadly. "Our dearest friend's husband was one of the first to die, and she didn't survive herself. Her sons have been fostered with another family."

Harry nodded. "Even with our warning and preparations, we were losing almost two hundred people a day to radiation poisoning when we left. People would simply fall down and die. And like I said before, we didn't have your level of technology. Our last group of survivors came on a sea craft, and half of them died crossing the ocean. I'm not going to say we suffered any more than you did, Commander, but rest assured we did suffer."

They began walking down the gravel path toward one of the nearby villages. The natives watched them curiously but did not approach. Overhead, Bill fought not to gape as he saw a pair of teenagers flit by on flying brooms!

"What's your food production like?" he said.

"We're running a surplus at the moment," Potter said. "Grains, vegetables, nuts and fruits. As you can imagine, our meat animals are all smaller. We've also started…well, understand it's a secret, but we've started cricket farms. Insects. We can produce a kilo of edible protein for only two kilos of feed. And with transfiguration, no one has to know they're not eating beef steak or chicken. We don't like the idea of eating bugs, but it's the most efficient method of obtaining protein. Our healers confirmed that the food itself isn't magical, at least the non-transfigured stuff, so it is safe for your people to consume."

Adama tried to control his emotions. The admiral was basically offering to feed his fleet. "Any assistance would be greatly appreciated," he managed in a subdued tone.

"Dada!" The toddler said something else in their language with surprising clarity for her age.

"Okay, Lily-bug," Potter said in Caprican. He placed the girl down and she began toddling ahead of them to a patch of grass where another family sat on a blanket eating. They obviously knew the girl and greeted her with smiles.

"She's seventeen months?" Adama asked. "She gets around well."

"She's her mother's daughter," Harry said proudly. "Hermione here is our science department head and was one of the designers of the ship and its engines. I have no doubt Lily's going to be just as smart."

Hermione waved it off. "None of it would have happened without you, Harry."

The political situation among the mages was interesting, Adama thought. He was surprised to find that Potter and his wife were in their thirties, and despite that were the legally appointed dictators of all three ships. What was most interesting, though, was that Potter intentionally created a system of checks and balances on his own power. On the surface, it seemed like an incredibly responsible and moral thing to do, but after the fleet's experiences following Roslin's arrest, he knew that it was simply smart. It gave the people of Harry's ships a buy-in and a voice into his leadership.

It was also a testament that despite his youth, Potter was a seasoned and capable leader.

"Well, we'd better get you back to the docking bay, Commander," Hermione said. "It's been twenty minutes. Given your recent health issues, we need to limit your exposure as much as possible."

Bill glanced down to the odd stone tablet he wore on a string around his neck. "This isn't enough?"

"Not for long term exposure," Potter said. "Hermione, are you coming?"

"I need to go speak to Fleur, I'll speak to you later. Commander, it was a pleasure to meet you."

He accepted her hand. "Likewise, Doctor Potter."

She left Potter and Adama alone, since they did not want to expose Delapina, Tannith or Petrie to any more magic than they had already experienced. The two men turned and began the walk toward the odd latter at the end of the dome that allowed them to virtually float up in a gravitational null-spot.

"This is amazing," he said. "You could fit so many people here."

Potter didn't disagree. "I think that's the worst thing about our situation, Commander. For every…mage on Earth, there were a million perfectly normal, innocent people. We didn't have the technology to make ships like this, so we had to use magic. And the magic would have made them sick. We couldn't save them, as much as we wanted to."

"Do you think any survived?"

"I know they were building arks—sea-born ships designed to withstand the worst of the tectonic shifting. The problem is that even if they survive, the Earth will not be habitable for at least a century or more. They won't all survive, I'm sure of it."

They reached the ladder and both floated up into the actual fuselage of the ship. "Admiral," Potter said as they walked. "I've been hesitant to offer because I know you don't entirely trust us yet, but…we could help with your chest."

Adama had to fight to keep his pace steady. "What do you mean?"

"Well, our…medicine would be poisonous to you, but we do have medical magic that could accelerate the heeling from your surgery and reduce the scar. I can tell you're in pain, Commander. It's not much, but it _would_ help, especially if you plan on going to the surface."

"Why offer now?"

Potter shrugged. "Because until you saw who we are and where we come from, you'd never have even considered it."

Adama shook his head. "You're a smart man, Potter."

"I've had good teachers. Let me introduce you to Healer Tonks. She can give you much more detail on what the charm would do. She's a medical doctor as well, not just a witch, if that makes you feel better."

"Strangely enough, it does," Adama admitted with a wry smile. "Begs the question of what you really want out of all this. We appreciate your help, but I don't believe in altruism. Even acts of generosity have an ulterior motive. What is it you want?"

Potter gave his own wry smile. "We want you, Commander. You and your people. Our… researchers, if you will, believe that our kind are not a viable subspecies on our own. That we would eventually lose our magic if we don't have a larger non-magical population to co-mingle with. We need a non-magical human population to interbreed with to ensure our own long-term magical viability. So, for our own sakes, we want you to survive and prosper too."

Adama looked down, considering something Roslin once said to him. "And make babies."

"Lots of babies," Harry agreed. "After all, I can't do it all myself. Hermione won't let me."

* * *

A/N: I was unhappy with this chapter. This was the **_sixth_** version of this chapter. It kept devolving into one of those flashback episodes you see on TV when they've run out of their budget. So I decided not to do the dramatic retelling. I wasn't happy with the end result, but I disliked it less than all the other takes.


	24. A Price in Blood

A/N: Chapter 23 review responses are in my forums as normal. Also, I'm sure folks have noticed by now that this story is not following every minute of every day of the characters. It is intentionally episodic. Some folks commented that it felt like a chapter was missing, but that chapter would only have been a minor character putting her ship in order. Likewise, I chose not to dwell on the mechanics of HP and Adama going after Roslin. I established in the last chapter they would, and so chose instead to get to the meat of the story. Hopefully it will work.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Four: A Price in Blood**

September 21th, 2013 (Day 66 CH)

When Laura Roslin boarded the Colonial transport to attend the decommissioning ceremony of the _Galactica_ , she never truly appreciated the sound of nature. Of course, Laura was always a city girl at heart. She never lived anyplace other than Caprica City. All the schools she attended were in Caprica City. The closest she ever got to nature was walking through Orpheus Park with her college boyfriend, sneaking off into the trees together for a youth-fueled tryst that was ultimately unsatisfying, like the relationship itself.

In fact, what she remembered most about that tryst was the sound of the birds in the trees above her.

Sitting now on the soggy ground under a make-shift tent, her chest aching with a bone-deep pain that made even breathing difficult, while clutching a sodden copy of the Sacred Scrolls that still had her friend Elosha's blood on it, Laura felt astounded to hear birds singing. She wondered if they were the same type of birds they had on Caprica. As if her head weighed a hundred stone, Laura broke out of her reverie to watch the new dynamic of their camp.

It was their sixth day on Kobol, the planet of the Gods. And like the past days, they spent it slogging through dense forest toward the Tomb of Athena. Already, they had paid a price in blood, just as the Sacred Scrolls predicted. Her dearest friend Elosha was dead, killed by a mine sadistically placed by one of the ancient mile markers. Another of her supporters had died in the Cylon ambush that followed, and it felt like they were not just going to fail to reach the tomb, but die doing so. On the other side of the equation was the former terrorist and now Quorum of Twelve member, Tom Zerek, with two of his own people acting as a living challenge to Laura and her supporters. With the death of her people, it appeared as if Zerek was about to take over the whole expedition.

Of course, that all changed when Commander Adama arrived.

Laura wanted to hate Bill Adama. He arrested her; he attempted to remove her from her office and overthrow the legal government of what remained of the Twelve Colonies. Yes, she subverted Kara Thrace into retrieving the Arrow of Apollo from Caprica, she did not deny it. But why couldn't he see how important it was? She knew, with an absolute certainty beyond mere faith, that the Arrow could show them the way to Earth.

He rejected the notion, and his actions resulted in her being forced to flee. She knew he'd been shot by Sharon Valerii, who turned out to by a Cylon, but all of Colonel Tigh's bumbling actions that split the fleet in half were merely a follow-through of Bill Adama's initial decisions.

Oh how she wanted to hate the stubborn old man! However, it was impossible to miss the effect he had on his people. Starbuck and Apollo both stood straighter around him, no longer slouching as they had when they first arrived. Even Tom Zerek's men treated the Commander with a note of leery respect not even Roslin inspired. It was frustrating; and if she admitted it to herself, it was comforting to have him here again, talking to her. Somehow, though she was absolutely certain of the righteousness of her cause, she always felt slightly lost without him there to lean on.

Of course, his companions were a mystery, but he'd indicated he didn't want to talk about them in the open.

He came at last to sit with her. "The Cylon says we're almost to the tomb," he said.

As if his words compelled her, she turned her head to look at the _thing_ that looked just like the Sharon Valenti who put two bullets into the Commander's chest just moments after blowing up the basestar that guarded Kobol. The young humanoid wore a bright red prisoner's jumpsuit that made her stand out like an alarm in the greenery of the planet. She never left young Lieutenant Agathon's side for more than a minute. It was as if the Cylon knew that Agathon was her only champion.

"She says she is pregnant with Helo's child."

Adama blinked, genuinely surprised. "Pregnant? Now that's a problem."

"Yes, yes it is," Roslin agreed. Pregnancy _humanized_ the machine, creating sympathy while presenting abhorrent moral issues. If the bio-Cylons could become pregnant, then what separated them from humanity itself?

She glanced from Helo and Boomer to Apollo and Starbuck. It reminded her of something the young lieutenant said the previous day, during the storm. "Lieutenant Thrace says that there are survivors back on the Colonies. There are people fighting against the Cylons every day. They're fighting for their homes, their future."

Lounging back as he did, trying to ease the strain on his back and chest, the Commander merely nodded. "I see."

His laconic response made her sit up a little. "Doesn't it give you pause? Maybe your impulse the day the Cylons attacked was right. Maybe we should've stayed and fought for our homes. Maybe the President of the Colonies should've stayed with her people." She couldn't help the bitterness in her voice.

But Adama cut it off. "I didn't come here for this." He sounded almost angry. "I didn't come here to navel-gaze or to catalog our mistakes. We made a decision to leave the Colonies after the attack. We made that decision. It was the right one then; it's the right one now. So every moment of every day since then is a gift."

Laura realized with a warmth that he was not angry at her—he was angry for her. For the guilt she felt for all those left behind. "From the gods?"

"No." He smiled then, though as always it was a subtle gesture—a subtle expression on his weathered, craggy face. "From you. For convincing me that I should go. I would be dead. My son would be dead. Whatever else the costs I won't second-guess that outcome."

She stared at him—at the sheer, rock-like resolve of the man—and realized with a start just how much she had come to depend on him as president. She wanted very much to say so, but it was difficult to find the words. Instead, her eyes drifted to the true anomalies in the camp—the three newcomers named Harry Potter, Padma Patil and Bill Weasley.

The three sat in a group together talking quietly in their alien language, glancing occasionally around them with wide eyes. "Who are they?"

Adama shrugged. "I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

She couldn't help but smile. "Try me."

"They're witches and wizards from Earth."

Her laughter turned into a wracking cough. "Oh, that was funny!" she said when at last she caught her breath. "So, really, who are they?"

"I wasn't joking," he said, though he did have a turn to the corner of his lips that was as close to a smile as he normally came. "They claim to be witches and wizards from Earth." He told her their story—fleeing a natural disaster as devastating to them as the Cylon Holocaust was to them, and their initial meetings. He also mentioned the fact that they managed to fit a sixteen-kilometer long, five-kilometer wide habitat into a ship 700 meters long.

"Finally, there's this," he said. He unzipped his uniform and pulled down his shirt to reveal a faded, completely healed scar. "One of their doctors did this. She pointed a magic stick at me, muttered a little, and my surgical scars were healed. They even got rid of my back pain."

She stared at the scar in disbelief. "Bill…that's…it's unbelievable."

"Yeah."

She turned and stared at the three, and almost as if he could sense her gaze the young admiral named Potter met her stare head on. He said something to his two companions before walking over to join them.

"Madam President," he said with a polite nod. "I hope you don't mind my interrupting, but my ears were burning."

"Please join us, Admiral," she said with forced calm. Potter sat on the ground between the two older Colonials. "Commander Adama was just telling me about your people."

"A bit much to take in, I realize."

"So you're a wizard?" Laura asked, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice

"Magic wand and all," Potter agreed, grinning. "I grew up in a non-magical household, so I was eleven when I first learned who and what I was. Most of Earth's population was not magical, and we kept ourselves fairly segregated. I went to a magic school, and after I graduated I became a magical police officer. I was actually the head of our nation-state's magical law enforcement when our people started dropping dead around us. My wife came home from an assignment and told me the news about Earth dying, and it felt like someone punched me in the gut. It only got worse when I learned that our government's response was to keep everything a secret so people wouldn't panic before they died."

Somehow, that sounded like something President Adar would have done, Laura realized. "You didn't accept that," she guessed.

"No. And that's why I'm running the show. Not because I was the best candidate, but because I was the impetus for the project. And…well, our people tend to gravitate toward those of us with more magical power. I'm not the smartest or most political person in the world, but I have an obscene amount of magic. So people tend to come to me for guidance whether I know what I'm doing or not."

"I can imagine that is frustrating," Laura said.

"You would know, Madam President," Harry said with a smile. "The trick, of course, is to make sure you have a lot of people around you who can help. Most of my executive crew I've known for years—some are family."

"Well, we do appreciate all you've down for us, but I am curious why you've come here, to this world."

Potter shrugged. "Our seer said we needed to come."

Laura stilled. "Your seer?"

Harry shrugged. "Think of it this way, Madam President. Our seer was able to tell us where the Cyrannus System was two years before we even left Earth. We don't have the computer power your ships do—technologically we're far behind you. Our entire navigation system is run by magic and her divination ability. She's so sensitive she has to struggle to keep everyone's personal futures from driving her insane. She also said you had visions yourself."

Adama snorted, but Roslin could only nod. "Because of the chamalla."

Harry shrugged. "Certain drugs have been known to activate dormant magical skills," he said. "Regardless, I was told by someone I trust that the answers to the questions we have regarding your origins and how we are related are here, and so that's where we are."

"I can accept that," Roslin said.

"I'm glad." Harry leaned forward. "So, back to a more immediate concern. I mentioned my law enforcement role in for a reason. I've got a sixth sense about these things—probably from all the fighting I had to do as a kid. You and the Commander here are not getting off this world alive."

Laura's chest suddenly hurt worse and she had to struggle to breath. "Zarek?" she guessed.

"Is that his name?" Harry asked, without looking. "He and his people are planning a coup—they've got the classic body-language of people about to commit a crime, and his men have been talking to your pet Cylon. I'm fairly certain she's armed now."

Every word was a blow, because she _knew_ exactly what he was talking about. He didn't have to convince her because she'd seen the conspiratorial looks and whispers herself, but with the loss of her immediate supporters she didn't see any choice but to proceed as planned and pray.

"That's a problem," Adama said coolly.

"I'm not going to pretend to know everything that's going on, but now that we're here, it's a matter of concern for me too. This Zarek is a political enemy?"

"He's a former terrorist who forced his way to the negotiating table by holding one of our ships hostage," Roslin said darkly. "But I owe him, as well. He helped me…get here." She glanced briefly at Adama.

Potter looked between the two. "Riiiiggght," he said with exaggerated slowness. "I think I see it, now. You wanted to come here, the Commander didn't, you came here anyway. And Zarek found a way to use that to split his enemy's power base. Smart."

For a person who looked barely old enough to wear adult pants, Laura was startled at the immediate recognition of their situation and mentally kicked herself for dismissing him.

"Well, they're your people," he finally said. "I would like to consider myself an ally, but at the end of the day this is a Colonial matter. If you need my assistance, you can have it, but I don't want to act unilaterally over something that is clearly in your jurisdiction."

"If our positions were reversed, what would you do?" Laura asked.

Harry ran a hand through his wet hair. "I'm a little new to the whole cut-throat world of politics. It was easier when I was facing criminals who just wanted to kill me. Politically, you owe him, but only because he saw a way to weaken you and take advantage of a schism in your government. And now he's planning a coup. If I were a leader of an endangered people pursued by a relentless enemy, I would wait until they acted and then put them all down. No appeal, no mercy, kill every single one. There's no danger of martyrs because they acted first and no chance of nasty trials where secrets could get revealed. And the threat is removed." He stood and made a show of dusting himself off. "I better go check on Padma. She looks like she's about to start digging again. We'll never get to this tomb of yours if we let her go off on her own."

He turned and left the two Colonials alone. "What do you think of him?" Laura asked.

"Young, a little naïve. But he's made card calls; he can do it again. And he's right."

Laura couldn't help but nod. "I know."

"Come on, we should go find this tomb of yours," Adama said, breaking the moment. He pushed himself up with effort and then offered her a hand. It took only a matter of minutes for the younger members of the party to wrap up and store the tarps that provided temporary shelter against the never-ending rain.

"Do you hear the birds?" she asked as they waited.

He looked around, his face blank and his eyes squinted against the unfamiliar sunlight. "Yes." She could see from his reaction that he heard them, but only as another of the many ambient sounds of the planet. He didn't care that they represented _life_ , a commonality with the Colonies that they might never have again. To her, they were hope. But to him, they were just more noise that made it that much more difficult to identify possible threats.

She sighed. _Stubborn old man_.

~~Kobol~~

~~Kobol~~

By the time they reached the crest between the peaks, Laura remained upright only because of Billy Keikeya's supporting arm. Her assistant, who parted ways with her when she and her contingent fled _Galactica_ and split the fleet, had returned to her side, and she could not have been more happy for it.

The bone-deep ache in her chest from the cancer had turned into a banked fire that made breathing a challenge, and her legs felt like sacks of jelly from the seemingly endless climb. Still, she clutched Elosha's book to her chest and stared stubbornly ahead at the backs of the others as they all made it to the top of the crest.

"So these are the Gates of Hera, huh?" Lee Adama said casually, as if they had not just traveled ten vertical kilometers. "For some reason, I always thought there would be columns and angels singing."

Laura admired the fact that he sounded as casual as he did. His father had told him of their suspicions.

"And a feast awaiting us," Billy added. "Definitely a feast."

Ahead, Kara Thrace snorted. "I could go for a roasted pheasant in a Delphic sauce right about now."

"Oh, with a darberry pudding," Billy said. "And Gemonese rice cakes."

Boomer was out of sight around a bend of the ridge. Laura's stomach growled at the discussion of food none of them had had in months. "I wouldn't mind a pan of Leonid sheet pasta."

Billy almost moaned at the thought. Galen Tyrol, bringing up the rear, did. "Please, gods, stop talking about food!"

"You should see this!" Boomer suddenly cried out from ahead.

They rounded a bend in the mountain and emerged on a small, flattened section of the cliff face. And there, set in the rock itself was a clearly visible, if badly overgrown, cave entrance. Laura stared at it, and then at Bill. However, the Commander was not looking at the entrance, but over the valley that was visible behind them through a break in the trees. His gaze was compelling enough to make Laura turn as well.

Her vision blurred as she turned, and for a brief moment she did not see the ancient, crumbled ruins lost in the growth below. She saw two broad rivers meeting at the end of the valley, and at the Y-shape before their meeting rose the great dome of the Kobol Opera House, with six broad, multi-lane highways running away from it like a spider, or perhaps like a long-necked bird. In the valley around the river rose great, gleaming sky-scrapers as beautiful as anything Caprica ever produced, while the sky overhead buzzed with air and space traffic. The vision was so clear, and so beautiful, it brought tears to her eyes.

Even as she looked, though, a brilliant, blinding flash of light obscured the vision, replacing it with a rapidly rising mushroom cloud.

"Madam President?"

She blinked away the terrible vision and realized with a start that Lee Adama was leaning over her. She'd fallen despite Billy's support. "What happened?" she asked.

"You tell me," Lee said with a gentle, worried smile. "You moaned and then collapsed."

She glanced over his shoulder to where his father stood with a worried frown. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said softly. "Help me up, please." Lee and Billy did so, and with two strong young men she was able to regain her feet.

Before she could speak, though, one of the new additions to their team stepped forward. The young woman named Padma was strikingly beautiful, with smoky-colored skin and piercing dark eyes and hair. She mentioned something to Potter in their language before crossing to the president and those helping her.

"Excuse me, Madam President," she said in clear Caprican. "Can you tell me what you saw?"

Beside her, Billy stiffened. "Excuse me?"

The woman, Padma Patil, ignored him and gazed squarely at Roslin. "You just had a vision. I'm familiar with the magic behind visions. It could be important, ma'am."

"Visions, huh?" Lee asked skeptically. "Wouldn't she need a magic wand or something?"

"Only if she wanted to turn you into a newt," Padma snapped back. Laura fought not to smile at the startled expression on Lee's face. "Madam President?"

"I saw the city in the field below," she admitted. "And…and a nuclear blast."

Padma frowned before turning to look at the empty valley below. The witch removed her magic stick and flicked it with quiet assurance. To Laura's astonishment the air in front of them began to shimmer and distort. The field below suddenly zoomed in as if they were staring at it through a massively powerful telescope, revealing not just ruins, but from their altitude hints of the city that once was.

"Harry, I want to go down there," Padma called.

"Couldn't it wait a minute, Padma?" Harry asked. "Don't you want to see the tomb first?"

As the two spoke, Laura noticed from the corner of her eyes Zarek and his assistant, Maier, exchanging long glances. Their two thugs were gradually shifting position. More importantly, though, Laura was almost certain Potter caught the telling glances as well. "Fine, sure. Madam President, Commander, this shouldn't be more than a minute. Bill?"

The lanky red-headed with the fang-shaped earring walked casually over where Harry and Padma stood. One by one, to the utter astonishment of those watching, the three disappeared with loud pops.

"What the hell was that?" Lee asked.

It was at that moment, almost as if scripted, that Boomer withdrew a gun and pointed it at the Commander's chest. "Sharon!" Lieutenant Agathon called in alarm.

Lee, Kara and Galen all reacted quickly but not before Zerek's assistant Maier put a gun to Lee's head, while the other two of Zarek's thugs brought their weapons up to bear on Thrace and Tyrol.

A split second later, before anyone could even absorb what was happening, Harry Potter rematerialized directly behind Sharon. A flick of his wrist and magic stick sent the young woman flying backward so powerfully her trajectory formed a parabolic arc over the edge of the cliff. She didn't make a sound as she fell.

The red-headed wizard appeared behind Maier and jabbed his wand forward. The thug's neck erupted in blood as he jerked back as if struck by a cannon ball, leaving Lee free to take out another thug. This created a chain reaction as Kara took out Galen's guard. They were all surprised, however, when the Commander himself pulled a pistol and put a bullet square between Tom Zarek's eyes. The back of the man's head erupted, though his expression looked merely surprised as he fell over dead to the ground.

It all happened in seconds, so fast that Billy still stood beside Laura with his hand protectively on her arm. Thrace looked around with wide, startled eyes and flared nostrils, but it was the sudden, agonized scream from Carl Agathon that brought him what just happened.

"Sharon!" he cried. He pulled his sidearm as tears ran down his face. "You fracking bastard, she was pregnant!"

He fired so fast not even Lee could respond, but again everyone stood rooted in place as the impossible continued on. Potter stood with his wand out and the air in front of him shimmering with blue light. Each bullet struck the blue light and flared away, an entire clip, until Helo sank dejectedly to the grassy ground and let the useless gun fall.

"She was carrying my child!" he wailed. "She wasn't going to shoot the Commander! I swear, she wasn't!"

Potter's eyes bulged and he looked back to Roslin. "The Cylon was pregnant?" he asked, horrified.

"So she claimed," Roslin said.

With a last look at Helo, the alien admiral walked back to where she and Billy still stood. "Madam President," he said in a low, urgent voice, "we're going to need to analyze that body. I think you have jurisdiction, but would you object if I recover the body for study aboard our ship?"

"Why, Admiral?"

His eyes narrowed. "If these machines can reproduce sexually, then what reason would they have to keep any humans alive, Madam President? In my mind, a pregnant Cylon is a threat to your existence as a species. And a threat to your species is a threat to mine."

Suddenly Laura felt unutterably tired. "Collect the body, then, Admiral."

He nodded. "Padma, we're done," he called to the air.

Nearby, the air shimmered and the young woman appeared. "Are they done shooting at each other, Harry?"

"They're done, Padma."

"Because I really don't like guns, Harry."

"They're done, promise."

"You didn't tell me there'd be guns, Harry. I asked, and you said there wouldn't be. I don't like being lied to, Harry."

"Sorry, Padma. Do you want me to go jump off a cliff?"

"That might make it a little better," she agreed.

To everyone's astonishment, Potter took off at a trot in the general direction he threw the Cylon and jumped off the cliff.

"Frak me!" Kara shouted. "Are you people frakking insane?"

"Is frak like fuck?" the red-headed wizard asked Padma.

"Same thing," Padma agreed.

"What the frak is going on here?" Thrace shouted. She brought her weapon to take a bead on Patil.

"At ease, Lieutenant!" the commander barked. "Kara, put the gun down, NOW!"

At that very moment, Harry Potter reappeared, zooming back over the edge of the cliff on what looked like a broom. He flashed over their heads with little more than the rush of the wind from his passage before looking back around and gliding to a stop. He casually swung his legs over the bizarre broom stick and then began stuffing it into the pocket of the long trenchcoat he wore.

Kara dropped her gun and stared with a gaping jaw as he fit the entire six-foot long broom into a four-inch deep pocket. "I'm done," he said to the president. "So, people, are we going to go into that tomb?"


	25. The Lord of Kobol

A/N: Chap 24 review responses are in my forums like normal. Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Five: The Lords of Kobol**

September 21st, 2013 (Day 66 CH)

"Before we proceed, I'd like to have Bill take a look," Harry said.

"Why?" The Commander sounded extremely irritated, and given the bodies lined up on the edge of the clearing near the cave entrance, Laura could not fault him.

"I'm a professional curse-breaker," Bill answered easily. "What you might call a magical archeologist.

"We were told he would need to be here," Harry explained to the President.

"Okay," Laura said easily enough.

The tall, red-headed man nodded to her before he stepped toward the mouth of the cave and started moving his wand. Lee and Kara both gravitated toward where the President, Commander and Admiral stood.

"What's he going?" Thrace asked.

"Checking for magical traps or curses," Harry explained. "I could do it myself, but he can do it better. I know a little about a lot of disciplines, but when it comes to curse breaking Bill knows pretty much everything there is to know."

"This is frakking insane," Thrace muttered.

"Anything, Weasley?" Padma asked.

"There is magic, but it's old," he called over his shoulder. "Normally wards like this would be powered by ley lines—they could last forever. But these looked drained. Still, I can't detect anything dangerous. I think we're okay going in, but I'd recommend against touching anything."

"The President should go first," Padma announced.

This caused the colonials to scowl. "Why?" the Commander demanded.

"It was her visions that guided her. Magic wants her to go first."

"I doubt magic would care if she didn't go alone," Harry added with a wry smile.

With Adama's hand protectively on her arm, Laura passed the threshold of what was one of the holiest sites in the Colonial faith without any hesitation and emerged in a surprisingly cramped, circular room filled with crumbling, stone statuary. In the uncertain light of the day outside, she could see symbols for each of the colonies, twelve in all. And on the far side of the room, tilted in an arrested fall, she could see Sagitteron the Archer. The statue posed as if about to fire an arrow, but there was no arrow in the bow.

"Harry, these are constellations," Padma announced in an awed voice.

"No, these are the symbols of the Twelve Colonies," Laura disagreed.

Padma shook her head and pointed to Sagitteron. "Sagittarius, the Archer. Celestial longitude 240 to 270 degrees." She pointed to Gemenon. "Gemini, the Twins. Celestial longitude 60 to 90 degrees. Merlin, these are the twelve signs of the Zodiac. Harry, we're three thousand light years from Earth, and we're staring at a Hellenistic depiction of the Zodiac as can only be seen on Earth!"

Laura found the young woman's excitement disconcerting, because to her the statues meant something else entirely. The twelve tribes of Kobol were one of the founding tenants of the Colonial faith. To even question their origins was profoundly disturbing.

Adama, pragmatist that he was, ignored the excited mages and instead nodded to the statute of the archer. "He's missing something," he said.

Kara pulled the tube from her back, and from within it carefully removed the Arrow of Apollo. The effect on the three mages was immediate and concerning.

"What the hell is that?" Harry asked.

"The Arrow of Apollo," Laura said. "It is one of the few artifacts we had from the founding of the Twelve Colonies. According to scripture, the arrow can open the Tomb of Athena and show us the way to Earth."

"Padma?" Harry asked.

"Well, it's definitely magical," Padma said as she stepped closer to a wary Kara Thrace. "I don't want to touch it, but could you hold it still just for a moment?"

Thrace looked to the Commander, who glanced to Laura, who nodded. With that chain of permission in place, she held the holy artifact while Padma flicked her wand over it.

"What do you detect?" Harry asked.

"It's a magical conduit," Padma said. She then winced. "Ah, Merlin! It's cored with human bone marrow!"

Bill stepped forward and flicked his own wand. "No curses, nothing too dark. Looks like the sacrifice was given willingly."

"What does that mean?" Laura asked.

"Our wands have cores from magical beings," Padma explained. "My wand's core is from a hippogriff—a magical hybrid of a horse and eagle. Potter's wand is cored with a phoenix feather. This wand's core is the marrow of a wizard's femur, likely. The wizard was killed and his body harvested for magical components like we might a magical creature. And…because of the nature of the magic we can tell that he sacrificed his life willingly."

Laura felt suddenly weak. " _And the body of each tribe's leader was offered to the gods in the tomb of Athena,"_ she said. "It's in the Sacred Scrolls."

"Wouldn't be the first sacrificial magic I've seen," Bill said with a wry glance back at Harry.

Laura was sure there was a story there, but realized this wasn't the time.

"So?" Harry asked.

Padma stepped back. "I think it is a ward key, Harry. If their religious text says it opens the Tomb of Athena, then there's a chance it might just do that. I say let them do what they intended to do."

Harry shrugged. "Madam President, this is your show."

"Do it," Laura said without hesitation. She clutched Elosha's book to her chest as Kara carried the arrow to the statue of Sagittaron. With a glance back at her the others, she placed the arrow in its place and stepped back, waiting.

The results were oddly…ordinary. Magical, yet ordinary. There was the sound of a breaker being thrown, and abruptly the cave disappeared and they found themselves standing on grass in the middle of a ring of monoliths under a bright night sky. Gems glowed on the faces of the monoliths that somehow matched the starts in the sky above them.

"Uh... where the hell are we?" Billy was looking around, wide-eyed with worry, at the strange new place.

"Is that the original seal of Caprica?" Kara asked.

"Look above it," Lee said, pointing to what looked like a constellation in the sky directly over the monolith. Laura, though, saw that it wasn't the constellation that looked like the stone, but vice versa. And that it formed the ancient seal of Caprica. She glanced at the witch named Padma, who had her wand arm folded over her chest and her left hand propped on it to tap her chin in deep thought. _Constellations,_ she'd said.

"The ancient symbols," Laura said aloud for the others. "These patterns were on the original flags of the 12 colonies back in the days when the colonies were called by their ancient names: Aries... Taurus... Gemini... Cancer..."

"Leo, Libra and Virgo," Padma finished absently. "On Earth these constellations were called the twelve signs of the Zodiac and were used in early time keeping and magical divination charts. Harry, I think I can get a good fix on the longitude and latitude based on the constellations respective positions. The seasons are different, but their positions are all consistent within their particular season."

"How could you know something like that?" Thrace asked.

Padma shrugged. "I was an Unspeakable—a research specialist in certain aspects of magic. I researched astrological and geological magical areas, while Harry's wife tended to concentrate more on theoretical aspects. At a guess, I'd say the view is based on a position smack dab in the middle of the Black Sea on Earth."

"Harry, there's something else," Bill said. "Look at the tops of the monoliths."

Laura looked herself and saw just the faintest wisps of silvery smoke.

"No way," Harry said, eyes bulging. He ran toward one of the monoliths and placed a hand on it. "Bugger me, there's no way a memory could remain intact for thousands of years."

"What are you talking about?" Laura asked.

Padma drifted closer to her. "Madam President, witches and wizards have a means of extracting and saving memories through a special, charmed container. For instance, I could remove a memory I have of watching the Earth die and share that memory with others. Memories are fragile, but Harry also doesn't know the magic behind it. Memories can last indefinitely if stored properly."

"I saw the memory of a pharaoh's jubilee celebration from four thousand years ago, as if I were there seeing it myself," Bill piped in.

"Really?" Harry blinked and stepped back from the monolith. "So, how do we activate it, and is there a danger to the Colonials from all this magic?"

"Not for just a few minutes," Bill said confidently. "As for how to activate it, let's take a look."

The Colonials watched in tense silence as the man walked around the statuary, scanning each with his wand, until he arrived back at Sagitarron.

"It comes back to our archer," he said. He turned to look at Harry and Padma. "It requires a blood sacrifice. And I believe it has to be magical blood. Whatever is there was intended to be viewed by mages only."

"Right, step aside," Harry said. "I saw one of these with Dumbledore years ago. It doesn't have to be a lot of blood, probably. Where does it need it?"

"On the arrow itself," Bill said.

"Right." Harry touched his wand not to his left palm, but rather to his forearm. A small cut appeared—Laura noticed the wizard didn't even wince as he switched wand hands and smeared the blood from the cut over his right hand before gripping the wand with his bloodied fingers.

This time, the effect was far more magical than even Laura could have predicted.

The night sky suddenly dawned into day. The monoliths faded way to reveal a broad, breath-taking valley filled with strange animals of every description, grassy plains stretching to a far horizon, and rows of crops. Rising from the center of the beautiful fields were three massive golden pyramids glistening in the sunlight.

"Bill, why is the memory in color?" Harry asked.

"It's been crafted," Bill said, his own voice revealing his awe. "Harry, this is a crafted, group memory. I've…I've read they were possible, but no one's ever been able to make one."

Laura tuned their voices out as she gripped her scripture to her chest and watched as her ancient forebears ran toward the pyramids, herding animals at once strange and familiar. She saw dogs and sheep, but also large bovine animals with horns and shaggy fur. She saw primitive travois that somehow floated on air laden with woven bushels of grain.

"No wheels," Padma noted absently. "Wheeled vehicles were affirmatively dated as far back as 3500 BCE, five and a half thousand years ago. And they are probably even older than that. But there's large scale organized agriculture."

"Don't forget the big, bleedin' golden pyramids," Harry said.

"Gold sheathing," Bill said as he stepped forward and pointed. "That glistening isn't just the metal. The gold sheathing is saturated with magic. This has to predate runic magic, so it'll have to be some early form of proto-script."

"Bill, those pyramids are mathematically and arithmetically perfect," Padma said. "No culture can produce something like that without a writing and mathematical system."

Both fell silent when one of the people herding animals flushed red in the face, staggered sideways away from the line of people, and fell dead to the ground. A child ran to the fallen, crying silently, until another adult picked the child up and carried her crying back into the line. No one looked back at the fallen, as if afraid.

As they watched, others staggered and fell, one by one and then dozens by dozens, littering the paths with bodies. "I don't understand," Laura said aloud. However, when she glanced at the mages, all three had tears in their eyes.

"It happened before," Padma whispered.

The three words hit Laura like a punch to the gut. _This has all happened before, and it will happen again._ The Cylon told her that. The Book of Pythia said it. "What is it?" she gasped.

"Radiation," Harry said grimly. The light from the memories made the tears on his cheeks glisten. "It must not have been bad enough to wipe out all the continents, but it was bad enough to start killing off witches and wizards. That was happening to our people too, right before we left."

They watched in silence as the people retreated into the three golden pyramids, leaving behind thousands of dead bodies in the grassy fields. The memory started to shake violently as they watched.

"Gods, look!" Lee said, pointing.

They turned to the west and saw a huge wall of water sweeping across the entire valley from side to side as far as the eye could see. The three pyramids took on an unearthly glow and then somehow majestically floated free of the valley floor with so much magic the air around them shimmered with it.

The panoramic memory changed abruptly until they were looking down from the perspective of the rising pyramids. Laura could even see the corner of one of them to one side. Below, the water continued to sweep past where they were, and from their increasing height she could see not just fields, but huge stone and wood cities swept away in the deluge.

"Harry, that's the Black Sea!" Padma exclaimed. "I was…that…the Flood Myths! That's where they all came from! Just like Ryan and Pitman hypothesized!"

The pyramids continued to rise even further, and as they did so the continents of the planet came clearer. She was surprised by the sheer amount of ice that covered them.

"Glaciation," Padma whispered. "Hermione would know better than me, but Harry, this gives us a good date. We're probably looking at earth twelve to fourteen thousand years ago."

The image remained as they pulled further and further away from the planet until it shimmered again and they suddenly found themselves inside a cavernous space that rose up above them. The center of the space was dominated by a giant black stone that, with the floating bodies as perspective, was easily the size of lorry. What was confusing, though, were the sleeping, floating bodies within.

"Okay, I've got nothing," Padma admitted.

"Drought of Living Death?" Harry postulated. "Or something like it? Look, they only have one lodestone. That means no internal gravity, only the stone driving the ships. That means they can't go faster than light or they'd be squished and then toasted. How far away is Earth, you said?"

"Roughly three thousand years," Padma said. "Without lightspeed…it would take them six to ten thousand years to reach Kobol. Not even Drought of Living Death could last that long."

Bill, though, shook his head. "Look at the bodies, though, Padma. That's not just sleep. Their floating, yes, but they're not moving relative to each other or the lodestone. They perfectly still."

"Then it's a still image," Padma said.

"No, the lodestone is moving," Harry pointed out.

"Then what…?"

"Time field," Bill said. "I saw something like this in Abu Simbel, though in canopic jars. Think about it. The only reason we could go as fast as we could is because Muggle mathematics showed us how. We had the power, Muggles had the knowledge. These people evidently had more magic than Merlin, but not the knowledge. But what's the one thing that Muggles can't ever manipulate, but magic can?"

Though Laura was lost, she could see Harry nodding. "They created a time-based stasis for themselves."

"Time cannot be manipulated," Lee said.

"Sure it can," Harry said casually. "When I was thirteen, my wife and I travelled backward in time and lived a day twice. We could actually see our previous selves and interacted with them—sort of. It created a closed time loop, but it is possible."

"And really, they're not violating temporal causality at all," Bill pointed out. "They've slowed down their personal passage of time. Outside the ship, they're flying along in normal time and space, but inside it has only been seconds since they left Earth."

Everything shimmered around them until they found themselves landing on what could only be Kobol. The three pyramids landed with massive, ground-shaking thuds.

"How could they even know where Kobol was, much less how to find it?" Kara demanded.

"Probably magic," Harry said dryly. "How do you think we found your Cyrannus System from Earth? We have a seer who told us where to go. If these people were as powerful magically as I suspect, I'm sure they had seers too."

They watched as the new Lords of Kobol broke down their pyramids to build a primitive stone city. As they watched, the city grew and evolved quickly as overhead the sky flickered with the exaggerated passing of the sun.

Everything slowed again. Laura stared at the beautiful creature that stood in a glade peacefully grazing. It had four legs and a coat of pure white fur, but most startling was the single horn projecting from his equine forehead.

"A unicorn?" she asked.

"Yes," Padma said.

The stunning creature lifted its head and then reared up on his hind legs in alarm before its chest suddenly erupted in a spray of silver blood. The impact threw the creature into the rocks on the edge of the glade. From the trees opposite emerged a mechanical monstrosity—a large, bipedal mechanized suit with what looked like a man in its midst. A gun barrel in one arm was still smoking in mute evidence of his crime.

Nearby, Padma actually cried out and sank to her knees at the sight of the creature dying. "What are they doing?"

The memories flitted to other scenes of strange, magical creatures being slaughtered and rendered down for their parts in such huge numbers it seemed to cover the whole world. Though the images were disjointed, Laura could see Harry nodding.

"Do you understand what this all means?" she asked.

"Too many witches and wizards," he said. "Our potions—the medicines we use—depend on magical flora and fauna. Now imagine a whole world of us, a world that evidently never understood conservation. Everyone would need medicine; everyone would need magical foci of some kind. And…oh Merlin, they killed their own magic."

The memory settled on a vast, empty field with a sole unicorn running in fear. And all around it, more mechanized monstrosities. Only, these things did not even have people in them any longer. They reminded Laura a great deal of the first Cylon centurions. They slaughtered the unicorn and suddenly, all around them, the memories lost all color.

Everything that followed was in a subdued sepia tone. The only color came when a women walked down a sidewalk that could almost have been a New Caprican city, with cars producing plumes of black exhaust moving on a paved road beside her. All around her, dull colorless people moved by while she appeared to them in full color.

Padma cried out again when a machine suddenly appeared from an alley and grabbed her by the neck, killing her instantly. It was so sudden even Laura jumped in alarm.

The memory shimmered again to a group of only a few hundred people all in color, fleeing through the sepia woods toward the very mountains where then Colonials found the tomb. Atop it was a ship, pyramidal in shape, but smaller and of a silvery metallic material. It rested in the meadow in front of the tomb, and other colorful people waited waiving the running people on.

Behind them came machines—stomping or flying machines. The refugees reached the ship and fled inside. It rose into the air, shimmering not just with magic, but with a set of very obvious fusion drives. It roared into the air, leaving behind the hunting machines.

Again, the memory shimmered until they saw the Earth again—a vastly different Earth with reduced glaciation. Abruptly both the memory and even the monolith vision came to an end, leaving the Colonials and mages in a cave filled with broken statuary.

"I don't understand," Laura finally whispered. "What did that mean?"

Harry cleared his throat, twice. When he turned to look at her, his eyes were red. "It means, Madam, that I owe the Commander an apology. It appears that we _are_ the Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol. But it also appears that the Lords of Kobol were originally from Earth."

"All the Colonials are latent squibs," Bill explained. "Every single one of them is descended from a witch or wizard who lost their magic."

"We need to get a team of Unspeakables down here," Padma said. "We have to understand how they lost their magic. Just killing magical animals wouldn't eliminate all magic."

Laura could see that Harry wasn't listening. Instead, he was looking at her with a sad expression, almost as if he were lost.


	26. A Fork In the Road

A/N: Chap 25 review responses are in my forums as normal. I'm glad folks enjoyed the true crossover elements of the story!

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Six: A Fork in the Road**

September 22th, 2013 (Day 67 CH)

Despite the very real risk of the Cylons, Kobol had something the fleet needed so desperately that Commander Adama and President Roslin both felt they had no choice but to stay: food.

In the sixty-six days since human civilization was almost completely wiped out, the fleet had been surviving primarily on _Galactica's_ food stores salvaged from Ragnar Station, the lone Agri ship, and whatever stores people were able to grab when they fled. They could not just turn away from an opportunity to gather food from such a life-rich planet. Despite the promise of food from the mages, even their young admiral admitted that they would be hard-pressed to feed the fifty plus thousand Colonial survivors in addition to their own numbers for long.

While the majority of the fleet held station at a randomly selected set of coordinates far away from anything of import, an invasion of raptors, tender ships and cargo vessels descended upon the world of their ancestors with the sole intent of gleaning as much edible material and potable water as they could carry. Laura knew just from her meetings with the Commander that the fleet ate through almost forty-five tons of food every single day. Since the holocaust they had consumed almost three thousand tons of food, more than half their food supply.

So there they were, on a planet well known by the Cylons, scurrying like rodents to get as much to eat as they could before being squashed.

Laura should have been back at the fleet—she knew she and Bill had a responsibility to publicly reconcile. He'd even shown her some notes he had for a joint news conference, something he'd never done before. Of course, the notes conveniently forgot to mention their new, odd allies.

She sat huddled in blankets in the command and control tent with a cup of hot, bitter tea in her hands provided by one of Potter's…mages. The Commander set up his coordination tent in the meadow outside the Tomb of Athena. Potter's mages had converged on the place by the dozens and were there even still.

Witches and wizards just did not sound right, so like Delapina, she decided 'mages' was the better term for them, and Potter seemed amenable to the label. The Scriptures spoke of magi advising the Lords of Kobol, after all. Given all they knew, it seemed apt. Now she just needed to figure out a way to tell the fleet that they had, at long last, found the lost Thirteenth Tribe of Kobol and Earth.

 _Oh, and she had to find a way to mention that Earth was a steaming, volcanic wasteland._

She could see that Adama's people were all uncomfortable with their newest allies. The _Galactica_ crew greeted the marines from the _Asteria_ with open arms, but viewed Potter's people like lepers. Unfortunately, the mages did not help matters at all. Most of those who came down spoke Caprican in the sense that they knew the words. However, there was such a huge cultural divide that they could hold a conversation with a Colonial, say every word clearly, and neither side would understand what the other actually meant. Many of Potter's people had no idea how guns worked, and stared at Raptors and tender ships with fascination.

Of course, that was nothing compared to the reaction the broom flyers got from the Colonials, or when they popped in and out of existence as they explored.

 _I'm going to have to be careful how I present them._

She glanced over to where Commanders Adama and Delapina were working together to help coordinate the resource expeditions. She knew Potter had volunteered some of his people to help, but after the first few hours they decided to segregate their efforts.

"I'm getting reports of mages magically pulling every nut on a tree into a single container in a minute, and then magically shelling them into another. The lieutenant soiled himself and requested a transfer," Bill told her early on.

 _Speak of the demons..._

Harry Potter stepped into the tent. When he and his people first arrived, they'd looked like stewards on a luxury liner—slacks and white shirts with half jackets. Now, though, he wore a dark navy-blue jumpsuit not too dissimilar to what the Colonials were wearing, with pockets on his thighs and chest. He still had that odd badge on his uniform to mark him apart from the Colonials, but the change in uniform definitely made him stand out less than his old attire.

Laura had no idea where the uniform came from, though, or how all the other mages were suddenly wearing similar clothes despite having landed wearing other items entirely. He nodded to her with a strained, tired smile before walking to the desk where Adama and Delapina worked with half a dozen communication techs to coordinate the efforts. After a quick word, he walked to the bar where the tea was and fixed himself a cup. Only then did he walk to the small sitting area where Laura was officially reading status reports, but in actuality was drifting on the verge of sleep.

"Admiral," she said with some effort.

"Madam President."

Laura had heard him say to Delapina that he actually preferred to be addressed by his common name. She'd witnessed his own people do it as well. However, she refused to engage him at that level of familiarity. It was simply too soon. Fortunately, he seemed to understand and did not try to insist.

"Have your people made progress in your studies?" she asked as a way of breaking the ice.

He nodded as he sipped his tea. "Some, yes. We're trying to reconstruct exactly what happened to cause the Lords of Kobol to lose their powers. We have some theories; now it's just a matter of finding proof to confirm or amend those theories."

Laura nodded and sipped her own tea. After a moment, perhaps because of being warm and dry for the first time in days, she said, "Your people are frightening us."

Rather than take offense, Potter nodded glumly. "Yeah, I noticed that. I ordered everyone to transfigure their clothes into something not so…different. I've also asked people to be a little more circumspect in how they use their magic. But at the end of the day, we are what we are. I was really hoping…"

He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. In that moment, he looked startlingly young. "I have always been a little naïve, I suppose. On Earth, we had to hide from the larger population out of fear of persecution. For all our magic, we never really had numbers. Our history is filled with instances of persecution and murder. It was often for religious purposes, but the religion was just an excuse for the fear."

The mage religion was something else that made Laura profoundly uncomfortable. Those mages who had religion were monotheists, like the Cylons. However, those monotheists were evidently in the minority. The majority of mages were secularists—agnostics who did not bother to deny the possibility of a god or gods, but did not worship them or ascribe to any particular faith. Either option left a bad taste in her mouth.

Potter's stomach growled loudly, causing him to blush. "Er, excuse me. Are you hungry? I have a snack here." He reached into one of the pockets of his pants and removed a brown bag that should not have fit. From that back he removed what looked like a sandwich, and then a second which he offered it to her.

"What is it?"

"Chicken salad," he said. "A small bird we raise for eggs and meat. We decided early on that large meat animals were just too inefficient to bring with us, so most of our protein comes from smaller animals or…well, whatever we have to do to survive, right?"

She accepted the sandwich and smelled it. It smelled tangy and slightly sweet. A bite confirmed that it was utterly delicious and she found herself devouring the sandwich quickly. Potter simply ate in companionable silence while the tent bustled around them.

"So, how long do you have?" he asked casually when they finished.

She turned and gave him a flat stare. "Excuse me?"

"Do you remember the tall woman with the dark hair? The gorgeous one who shook your hand a second too long? That was Andromeda Tonks, a healer and medical doctor. She sensed your cancer from the handshake."

Laura fought to keep her face blank. "Admiral, I'm sure you mean well, but I'm not prepared to have this conversation with you."

He shrugged. "Fair enough. I only mention it because she's fairly certain we could cure you. Not just put you into remission, mind. But actually cure you entirely."

She blinked at him twice before sipping her tea. "More of your magic, I suppose."

"Actually, the magic is in your, Madam President. Our potions would kill your commander, for instance. Healer Tonks wanted to meet you because of something Unspeakable Patil mentioned regarding your vision. You see, non-magical people cannot have visions, not like you did. With the handshake that confirmed your illness, Healer Tonks also confirmed you had magic."

Laura couldn't help but snort. "You're trying to tell me I'm a witch?"

"No," he said, smiling thinly. "You'll never be able to perform magic and a wand would be useless for you. You're what we call a squib—someone with latent magic who cannot actually perform magic. You have magic in your body that would allow you to benefit from magical healing and would make you immune from the negative effects of our magical environments, but you're not a witch. We got a sample of that Chamalla we heard about and confirmed that it was able to chemically activate just enough magic to make you receptive to psychic phenomenon. I suspect all your oracles are squibs, really."

He paused and sipped his tea before glancing over to the command center. "We are a common people, Madam President. The Lords of Kobol were our mutual ancestors. Everything we are, you could be as well. If a mage married a Colonial, in the right environment there's a good chance their children would be born magical. That's why I hoped…well, like I said. I'm a little naïve sometimes."

He removed a large, mottled red fruit from the back and casually tossed it to her lap before taking another. She lifted it and stared. "An apple?"

"You have those too? Yeah, these are particularly good." He bit into it with a crisp sound and tore off a sizable piece. With no reason not to, she did the same. The apple was not quite as sweet as a Promethea apple from Aerilon, but it held a wonderfully crisp texture to it—a nice crunch without being too chewy.

Potter ate his down to the core before tossing it into the bag. He offered it to her for her trash as well when she was done, and then the bag simply disappeared. He sighed as he leaned back and watched the bustling activity around him. "So what are your people going to do, now that you know Earth isn't the answer?"

"That's a hard question to answer, Admiral," Roslin said.

"I bet so," Harry said. "Our goal was Cyrannus. We got there and discovered all the worlds we thought we could colonize were under attack and already dead. Now the Cylons know we're here and seem to want us as badly as they wanted you. So, right now we have no target world to look into and enemies we never knew existed. I suppose we're open to suggestions."

"What about that seer of yours?"

Potter shrugged. "She says we're caught in a fork in the road. We can't move until you decide."

"Decide what?"

He turned and looked at her intently. "Whether we're your allies or your enemies."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

Bill Adama sighed and then held up the latest report with an all-too rare sense of satisfaction. He was going to give his people one more day on the planet if the Cylons allowed because it was just too much to turn down. So far the tender ship had deployed nets and was doing just casual flybys over the nearest ocean. And just with surface trolling and SONAR, they reported almost five thousand tons of fish caught. The oceans of Kobol teamed with unbelievable amounts of life.

The ground teams found forests of fruit and nut-bearing trees in the southern continent, while still others had found huge fields of grains to rival those of Aerilon itself. His hunters reported almost twenty tons in meat animals already harvested in just the past three hours. That wasn't even taking into account everything Potter's people had gathered.

Kobol was a breadbasket of a world with more natural resources than all twelve of the colonies combined, and just like everything else, the Cylons would keep them from living there in peace. Until they had to leave, he was going to extract as much food from the world as the blood they had already shed afforded them.

"Wonder what they're talking about?"

Adama blinked and looked at Delapina, a capable commander perhaps a decade younger than himself. He followed the younger man's gaze to where the President sat huddled in her blankets with her tea across from Potter, who leaned back in his seat with a tired expression. They were speaking quietly together.

"Don't know, but it's probably not good," Adama said.

"So, a school teacher, huh?" Delapina said. "I've heard some of the scuttlebutt."

"We both could have handled the situation better," Adama admitted. "She proved we need civil leadership for the fleet, that much I can't deny."

"Listen, Bill, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, but I haven't really had the time. We're pretty sure the _Pegasus_ survived and is out there even now."

Bill straightened. "The _Pegasus?_ Admiral Cain's ship?"

"That's right."

"How do you know?"

"Because Potter's first Colonial contact was with a fleet of civilian refugees that Cain raided. The survivors are all on the _Asteria_. Bill, she gang-pressed civilians and ordered the families shot if they protested too much. She ordered women and children shot. She took their jump drives, fuel and clothes and left them adrift to die. There's no question, the _Pegasus_ identified itself and the marines who came on board and did the shooting all wore ship patches and clearly identified themselves as having orders to act as they did. Civilians were murdered in cold blood."

"Damn." Adama sank down tiredly in his seat. "Cain is a good officer, but she's hard. More importantly, _Pegasus_ is a _Mercury_ -class Battlestar. It could take on the _Galactica, Asteria_ and _Notus_ combined.

"Don't I know it," Delapina muttered. "Especially when the _Asteria_ only has two functioning engine pods. The _Notus_ could almost land in one of the _Pegasus_ flight pods."

"What I wouldn't give to get my hands on a _Mercury_ 's production facilities, though," Adama muttered.

"Potter had an answer, though. You're now senior officer in a fleet of three or more Colonial ships. You have the legally appointed President of the Twelve Colonies and a Quorum of Twelve. Just have them promote you to full Admiral. No matter how hard Cain is, she couldn't argue with the legality of it, and you are senior officer. I'd certainly support you, as would Petrie and Tannith."

"Good to know. Thank you."

"Commander Adama?"

Bill straightened and looked back at the young ensign manning the wireless. "Sir, the CAP just reported. We just got buzzed. Single bandit, in and out in twenty seconds."

 _No peace._ "Acknowledged. Stay on mission to cover withdrawal. Standby for bug out signal."

"I'll get the people here moving," Delapina volunteered.

Adama nodded before stepping to the wireless and putting on a headset. He reached over the ensign's shoulder to hit the planet-wide frequency, using the many raptors in orbit as satellites to carry the signal. "This is the Commander. We've been scouted. All units are to cease operations immediately and return to the fleet by numbers. Repeat, cease all operations and return to the fleet by numbers. Report withdrawals on this frequency. Acknowledge!"

One by one, the various teams acknowledged the orders as Adama took of the headset. "Report when all teams are out," he ordered.

The ensign nodded. "Yes, sir." She pulled out a piece of paper where she'd quickly scrabbled down the various teams. Adama walked toward the president and Potter.

Potter had already stood. "Time to go, then?" he asked.

"The Cylons scouted the planet," Adama confirmed.

Potter nodded and reached into one of his pockets for what looked like a mirror. He said something in his oddly guttural native language before slipping the mirror back in to the pocket. "I hope you were able to at least get some food supplies."

"Yes. Despite some uncertainties, we do appreciate your people's help." While it scared the frak out of the Colonials, Adama was not going to argue with the sheer tonnage Potter's people were able to produce. "Will you need a lift off planet?"

"No, thank you, Commander."

They stepped outside the tent just as the marines gathered it up into its travel case and loaded it quickly into one of the many waiting raptors. The ensign at the wireless was busy writing down the various team withdrawal reports.

Another of the many raptors from the surface came buzzing into the field—the side hatch opened and Apollo rushed out before the craft even landed. Bill still hadn't decided what to do with the boy. He'd committed mutiny against a superior officer, regardless of his motivations or rational. But they were so stripped of qualified personnel at the moment that the idea of losing one of his best pilots made his stomach hurt. Nor was it just his piloting skills—Apollo was a fine officer.

If he just weren't so damned stubborn. "We're clearing out?" Apollo asked.

The Commander gave a curt nod. "Commander Delapina is supervising the evacuation. Assist," he ordered tersely before following after Roslin and Potter. Around their clearing, marines and specialists were already collapsing the other tents and collecting what materials they brought down with them.

They had the temporary command camp broken down and stored in less than five minutes, which even then was cutting it close. "Commander, all teams evacuated. CAP reports contacts inbound—Basestars and raiders descending on the planet," the ensign reported breathlessly.

They didn't need the report. Bill could hear the sonic booms of raiders entering the atmosphere in large numbers as he climbed into the Raptor his son was piloting. It was a tight fit with all the equipment and marines. "After you, Madam President," he said as he helped Roslin in.

"We're jumping from the atmosphere as soon as we're airborne!" Lee called over his shoulder. "It's going to be a rough ride!"

Outside, Potter's people were emerging from the Tomb of Athena carrying crates and baskets. They disappeared as they emerged, one by one. There were no flashes of light, just whirls of dust where they once stood. Potter himself gave Adama a lackadaisical salute before he disappeared as well.

His attention was drawn from the mage Admiral when one of his raptors abruptly disappeared in a flash of white-blue radiation as it jumped. Before the second could fly away, a Cylon missile struck it amid-ships, vaporizing it.

"Frak me!" Lee shouted as he violently flew their Raptor away from the explosion just as a second missile impacted the spot where they were just seconds before. Bill clutched his restraints with one hand and reached out another to help brace the president as Lee inverted their raptor just feet off the ground in a gut-wrenching barrel roll over the edge of the cliff, diving down until the jump drive spun up enough to flash them away.

In the stunned silence that followed, veiling the universe around them in an empty field of stars, Lee's co-pilot said, "Damn, Captain, I think you left my heart back there!"

Bill wondered if the co-pilot was more right than she even realized.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

The Avalon hemisphere was on the night cycle, while the Broceliande hemisphere was on its day. The decision to have the hemispheres operate opposite of each other was made during their year orbiting Earth and no one could argue that it made things easier.

The night shift crews simply moved to the Broceliande side of the ship, ensuring each shift enjoyed what amounted to a normal work day and evenings off. On those rotations, though, the Avalon side of the ship was sometimes eerily quiet. It was that way as Harry walked down the main corridor on his side of the ship toward the medical bay.

He found Dr. Barnes in the isolation ward with Hermione. Both women wore charmed aprons and masks to keep out contamination as they stood over the body of the Cylon Harry killed on Kobol. At his wife's signal, Harry donned his own apron, mask and gloves before joining them.

"Well, I'm here," he said. "What do we have?"

"She was pregnant," Barnes confirmed crisply, without a discernable note of condemnation for the fact that Harry killed her. "We've taken blood samples from the fetus and the mother and determined that the child was essentially human. The body was engineered to be so human that it produced organic ovum. The same genes that would create the organic transceiver were present in the fetus, but otherwise it was human."

"The child was a human that could preserve its consciousness after death," Hermione clarified for Harry.

Harry nodded, having grasped that much. "What else?"

Barnes took a shaky breath. "If this child married a mage, and their child married a mage, and on and on, no matter how many generations, none of their offspring would ever be magical. This child's genes are the antithesis of magic. It would be the death of magic for whatever bloodline it joined."

Harry stared down at the body on the table. Even by Earth standards, she was attractive, with the type of petite figure and large eyes that many men found themselves wanting to protect. All he had to do was look at the enraged, crushed figure of Carl Agathon to realize this much. She was also identical to the spy they found in Brenda Laird's group.

An uncomfortable thought came then of Cassandra Appolline's breasts. Before his conscious mind could berate his unconscious mind for such inappropriate behavior, he suddenly remembered the words that came moments before the exposure of those breasts. It took Occlumancy to recall it entirely.

"`There is a crossroads,'" he said aloud, recalling her prophecy. "`The traveler is beset by storm, plague and famine. They are weary and weak. On one path lies a cold eternity. On the other, a rainbow of strife. They must choose—an eternity of life without life; or the mortality of magic.'"

"Harry, what was that?" Hermione said carefully.

"Something Cassandra said, back in August. She said the Colonials were the traveler, and we were the strife. The rainbow. Hermione, you've viewed the memories from Kobol—at the end, after magic had mostly died out, those born magical were lit with color. Like living rainbows."

"That seems abnormally clear for a prophecy, then," Barnes said. "If this child were born, the Cylons could offer peace to the Colonials with the promise of eternal life. The price would be the ultimate death of all magic. And given the Colonials haven't had access to real magic in the last two thousand years, I'm not sure it would be that difficult of a choice for them."

Harry could see an expression of fear and horror on Hermione's face when she glanced back up at him. "Harry, we can't tell them. The Colonials can't ever know."

"I know," Harry agreed, though his stomach twisted at the idea of trying to keep such a huge lie. "Destroy the body. No evidence."

Barnes nodded grimly.


	27. Angels and Demons

A/N: Chap 26 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thanks for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Seven: Angels and Demons**

September 24th, 2013 (Day 72 CH)

Sometimes, not even Gaius Baltar himself knew why he did what he did. Or, in this case, why he went where he did. Perhaps, having heard of the death of yet another Sharon Valerii-model Cylon, he was reminded of his conversation with the first model. That conversation went poorly—she tried to shoot herself but failed, and then after destroying a Cylon basestar over Kobol, she shot the Commander twice in the chest at the prompting of programming she herself never knew she had.

Worst of all was that she was proof that his Cylon-detector actually worked. He just lied about her results. He'd made a career out of lying. While he was a smart man, it was actually his Cylon partner who did much of the programming for the Command Navigation Program. Oh, the architecture was his, to be sure. But it was his lover who managed to patch the many holes he himself could not.

Oddly, though she continued to haunt him, for some reason Gaius could never remember what name she went by on Caprica.

However, he found himself thinking less and less about his unknowing but very real complicity in the fall of the Colonies. Rather, having spent several terrifying days on Kobol before being rescued, Gaius found himself dwelling on the future that his personal head-Cylon showed him. It was in need of a quiet spot to think that he wandered into the security and observation room of the brig, expecting it to be empty.

Instead, he found a young man in the t-shirt and tank-top most pilots wore under their flight suits sitting in the middle of the cage. The door was open, and the young man sat with what appeared to be a loaded pistol clasped in his hands and hanging between his knees.

Baltar went very still and wondered if he were about to witness a suicide. Part of him wondered if he should intercede, but the other part asked what he would do? After all, the last troubled person he spoke to tried to shoot herself anyway, and then shot the commander instead. Was this young man another Cylon, and would he shoot Baltar instead of himself?

"She said it was going to be a girl," the young man said aloud. His grimace broke as a tears started to come. "My little girl. Our little girl." The gun fell from nerveless fingers as the man collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

"I wasn't aware of any pregnant women dying," Baltar said. Though he was alone when he spoke, somehow he was not surprised when Six answered. What did surprise him, though, was to find her standing next to him with tears streaming down her face, as if she were crying for the young man's loss as well.

"What is wrong with you?"

"It wasn't just his child who died, Gaius," she said sadly. "It was ours."

Frowning, Baltar looked from her back to the young man, and realized abruptly that he was looking at Carl "Helo" Agathon, the hero whom Kara Thrace rescued from Caprica. He knew that the Cylon Roslin took with her as a guide was dead. Which meant it was the Cylon Sharon they called Boomer who was… "She was pregnant?"

"Yes. According to god's plan. Perhaps not the most deserving of us, but it is not up to us to question God's will."

Gaius blinked. "I'm confused. If it was God's will that she be pregnant, was it also God's will that she die?"

"No," she said. "No, something terrible has happened. Something that should not have happened. Roslin was meant to find Kobol—she always was. But you were never meant to encounter the old race of demons."

Gaius couldn't help his scoffing laugh. "Demons, now? Really? And I suppose you are an angel on high? I don't see any cherubic wings. Don't all the monotheist angels have wings?"

"Watch yourself, Gaius," she said, quite suddenly angry. "You are speaking about things you cannot possibly understand." The tall, blond apparition which looked like a Model Six Cylon pushed off from the console. "Your Lords of Kobol were not without their own power, but it was an evil power that they eventually drove away from Kobol. The demons they drove off returned, and it was the actions of these demons that led to Boomer's death. A set-back, yes, but God's plan will transpire. We will just have to find another way."

Baltar looked back through the viewer at the sobbing man. "So there was a child."

"Yes."

"And you're not a chip. We've established that."

"Yes."

"The fact you knew about something I could not implies strongly you're not just a figment of my imagination. So, what are you?"

She hovered closer. "You said it yourself, Gaius. I'm an angel of God sent here to protect you. To guide you. To love you."

Suddenly Gaius found it difficult to swallow with her so close. "To what end, exactly?"

"To the end of the old human race and the birth of a new one," she whispered into his ear as she pulled him into an embrace. He allowed it the same way a deer allowed itself to be struck when caught in the headlights of a car. "It is God's will," she continued. "And no demons will stop the Plan He sat down for us."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

The news conference could have gone much worse, Laura mused as she looked out the window of the Raptor they were flying on toward _Cloud 9_. Bill took just the right tone, not quite apologizing but making it clear that he fully acknowledged her role as President. Likewise, she did the same, making it clear that she acknowledged his important duties as leader of the fleet's defensive forces.

"And with the blessings of two more Colonial fleet ships, that duty is even greater," she told the assembled press. "After discussions with Commander Chrysanthus Delapina of the Battlestar _Asteria_ and the Quorum of Twelve, I am pleased to announce the promotion of Commander William Adama to Admiral of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol. Admiral Adama?"

He stepped forward and allowed her to put the gold star on the lapels of his uniform. Delapina led the applause from among the Fleet personnel present. The press, whatever they might think, looked around and felt the need to applaud as well.

When the applause died down, Deanna Biers, a reporter Laura had come to despise, shouted a question over the din. "What about the aliens? Who are they?"

It triggered a firestorm of questions that didn't die down until Roslin raised her hand for silence.

"Thank you," she said with brittle calm. "First, they are not aliens. They are human beings just like us. We will have another news conference within ten days to give the Quorum and myself an opportunity to meet with them and to formalize any relationship. For now, understand that they went down to the surface of Kobol at risk to themselves and helped us gather food. If not for them, the ten additional ships that arrived with Commander Delapina of the _Asteria_ would not have survived. They are responsible for saving almost eight thousand Colonial lives with no expectation of reward. Rest assured, they are our friends. And once more formal relations have been established, we will be happy to provide more information about them. Good day."

It could have gone worse, but it could have gone better as well.

Laura climbed out of the Raptor in the hangar of _Cloud 9_ , the one and only luxury liner to escape the fall of the Colonies. As she climbed out, she spotted an odd, rounded sled-like vehicle in the far corner of the landing bay. Potter's people were already here.

Her travelling companion noted it was well. "What is that?" Baltar asked as he followed her gaze.

"I'm sure I don't know," Laura lied. "Shall we, Doctor Baltar?"

"Very well," he said.

Once they left the fuselage of the luxury liner itself they reached the massive, pressurized dome that held the gardens and distant, holographic images of mountains. Artificial sunlight streamed down on living trees and lawns, and living birds fluttered about freely. As Laura stepped into the light, for a brief moment she could believe she was back on Caprica again.

"Madam President, this is truly amazing."

She blinked and found herself facing Harry Potter and a woman she'd not met before. The woman appeared to be slightly older than Potter, having none of his youthfulness. She looked attractive, but not overly so, and despite her smile she had rings under her eyes denoting exhaustion. Most startlingly, though, was the baby she carried in a clever fabric sling that wrapped around her opposite shoulder and let the baby rest comfortably on her hip.

"Harry," the woman said, as if to remind him.

He blinked down at her, then at the waiting president. "Oh, of course. Sorry. Madam President, may I present my wife, Doctor Hermione Potter, and my son Edwin James. Hermione serves as a ship's engineering commander and our lead science advisor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Madam President," Hermione said confidently as she stepped forward and offered her hand.

Laura, bemused, accepted it. "Likewise. Isn't it a little early for you to be up and around with a newborn? I understand you had the baby just days ago."

Hermione shrugged. "We heal quickly, and little Eddy here is very safe. I need to keep him close by for the first three months, but I also very much wanted to see this fantastic ship. The holograms are truly amazing."

Another woman joined their party—this one had blonde hair cut in a pixie style with sharp blue eyes and the hint of wrinkles and frown lines around her eyes and mouth. She stood an inch taller than Potter and wore stylish dark slacks and a red blouse as opposed to the brown culottes and white blouse Hermione wore.

"Finally, Madam President, may I also present Doctor Samantha Barnes."

"Doctor of what, may I ask?" Baltar said with a polite smile.

"Medicine," the woman said with a veiled smile. "And you are?"

"Doctor Gaius Baltar," the man said, now oozing charm. "Vice President of the Twelve Colonies. Although I must admit my specialty is not medicine, but rather in the sciences. From what I've heard of your people, though, I'm surprised that you would use such a title. I would think witch doctor or some such would be more suitable."

Barnes smiled, though the expression did not reach her eyes. "Well, I am a witch, and a doctor, so it might make a funny joke in some circles. My doctorate is non-magical, my healing mastery is magical. All of my staff have non-magical degrees in their specialties. Commander Potter there holds a doctorate in physics."

"Well, until I've seen your sciences I'm not too eager to announce that," Hermione said with a charming blush. "Your people have had spaceflight for centuries longer than us."

"And do you have any hidden degrees, Admiral Potter?" Laura asked.

Harry shrugged and smiled wryly. "I skipped my last year of school and went straight to active service as a…police officer. Anything I've learned has been on the job, you might say. So, how would you like us to handle this, Madam President?"

They fell in together as they walked toward the Quorum meeting rooms. "I will give my initial report to the Quorum, and then ask Dr. Baltar to call for a vote to open discussions with you. Assuming they vote, which they should, at that point you can enter the hall. As a Head of State you should enter first, Admiral. I'm sure they will have questions."

"Which is why I dragged Hermione and Dr. Barnes along," Harry said with a disarming smile. "If I don't know the answer, chances are one of them will."

"Understood. We'll await your call, then."

Laura nodded to the three—and a half—mages before she led Baltar into the Quorum hall.

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

"Baltar's a squib too," Barnes said the moment the Colonials were gone. "And a smarmy bastard at that. I feel like I need to go wash my hand." Instead, she cast a sterilizing charm on it.

"How many squibs do you think there are?" Hermione asked.

"There were none in the first survivors we picked up," Barnes said. "Without more data, I can't even hazard a guess."

Hermione looked around the domed space, a wistful expression on her face. "In their own way, these holograms are as incredible as our expansion charms. The quality of the three-dimensional imagery is utterly astounding. It's suspended in a gas mist held in place with…"

"Hermione, love, is this the time?" Harry asked.

Hermione blinked at him, and then shifted Edwin to a more comfortable position on her hip. "No, I suppose not. We're going to have to be very careful with what we say and do, Harry. Judging by how badly the Colonials responded to our teams on Kobol, there might be a lot of fear and distrust."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know."

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

~~ _Invincible_ ~~

President Roslin fought hard to hide her sigh of impatience as her sometimes friend and supporter stood, her face flushed with alarm, and made a fool of herself.

"The Lords of Kobol were witches?" Sarah Porter, the Quorum representative of the arch-conservative Gemonese, demanded breathlessly after a nearly ten-minute long rant. "You expect us to believe that, when the scripture says otherwise?"

The closed-door meeting on Cloud 9 should have been a happy occasion. The fleet was united again with almost eight thousand more survivors and two more military ships to help defend them. Instead, almost as soon as Laura finished her report, the Quorum members began arguing over the identity of the mages, and the fact that they claimed Earth was destroyed.

She had to bite back a sigh of relief when the ensign from _Galactica_ stuck his head into the door to nod. "Before this discussion goes any further, I thought you might benefit from speaking to their leaders. I've invited both Admiral Potter and his wife, Doctor Hermione Potter, to address the quorum. I understand that the Doctor Potter is an accomplished scientist in her own right. They are accompanied by a medical doctor. It is my hope that they will be able to answer any specific questions you may have regarding their people. I ask that the Quorum accept their testimony."

It was to Laura's chagrin that her vice President, Gaius Baltar, chaired the Quorum. Still, he seemed open enough to the suggestion. "Do we have a call for a vote?" he said.

Marshall Bagshot made the call, which was quickly seconded and passed. Laura nodded back to the ensign who opened the door to admit their guests.

Laura didn't watch her guests—she watched the Quorum members. She saw immediately when they noticed that the sling on Hermione's hip was a baby. She began to rethink her initial reservations when she saw Sarah Porter's face soften somewhat.

"Good morning," Admiral Potter said in crisp, perfect Caprican once he reached the podium. "First of all, I wish to thank President Roslin and all of you assembled today for agreeing to speak with us. Like you, my people are refugees. While I do not wish to speak for you, for our part my people were excited beyond words to discover unknown cousins amongst the stars."

He motioned to the two women by his side. "Accompanying me today to answer any questions you may have is my wife, Doctor Hermione Potter. Nepotism aside, she also holds the rank of commander on our ship. Professionally, she holds a doctorate in physics on our home world and is our lead technical and science advisor. And also with us today is Doctor Samantha Barnes, our chief medical officer. I'm sure you also noticed our youngest member, my son Edwin, who was born eight days ago."

Laura watched the Quorum members and inside smiled in approval as Admiral Potter effectively used his wife and child to further melt some of the uncertain, icy looks. He was doing his best to humanize himself and his people to the Quorum.

"I am thirty-five years old," Potter continued. "I was born in a small village called Godric's Hollow in the nation-state of Great Britain, on the planet Earth. And I am a…mage."

He paused and regarded the Quorum steadily. The Quorum stared back, each of them momentarily caught off guard by the sheer brazenness of Potter's statement. Into that length silence, Baltar spoke.

"We've heard quite a lot about this magic of yours," the Vice President said with what for him was almost a polite tone, though even so it sounded patronizing. "Rather than doubt eye witnesses who have been rather consistent with what they've said, I'll accept that there is a kernel of truth to it. No, the question I have is where this power comes from."

"The Book of Exodus in the Sacred Scrolls tells of witches selling their souls to the demons of the underworld for the power of curses," Sarah Porter declared.

Harry smiled thinly and stepped away from the podium, making way for his wife in what almost looked like a rehearsed gesture.

"Representative Porter, I assure you our souls are intact," Hermione said, having obviously studied the name placards in front of each member of the Quorum. "And I promise I'll not barter any of my children's souls for something as silly as power. Nor would any other parent of my acquaintance."

Porter actually reared back as if slapped.

The Admiral's wife spoke like a lecturer, or worse yet, a lawyer. "Now that we've considered the question of souls, let me also say this. We have studied your Sacred Scrolls and believe that it is a document of untold historical importance, not to mention a genuinely beautiful sample of your written language. Our people have a great respect for oracles such as your Pythia, primarily because such oracles are alive and well within our current society. It was an oracle who told us to come to the Cyrannus System, and in fact showed us the way despite the fact our science could never have found it. My husband was born under a prophecy that was extensively studied and in fact came true, almost word for word. So, while I respectfully disagree with your interpretation of your Scripture, I do so with the utmost respect and reverence for the scripture itself."

She stepped around the petitioner's desk to stand clearly in front of the raised, hemispherical seats of the Quorum. "As for Dr. Baltar's question, the answer is this: a mage is a human being just like yourselves, with an activated gene sequence that allows us to produce and use a biological energy field which we call magic. There may actually be a better term for it, but tradition is what it is. It is something we are born with—there is no cavorting with demons or supernatural powers. Some of our scholars have tried to apply non-magical sciences to describe what we do. Given how much more advanced your sciences are, it could be that someday you will be able to do describe exactly what our power is better than we can."

"I've spoken with people on the surface who saw witches riding broomsticks!" Porter said, indignantly.

"And I spoke to people on the surface who saw Colonials flying in spaceships," Hermione answered quickly. "To us, that is just as miraculous. We travel in space using magic because we did not have the technology to do it any other way. We travel on broomsticks because…well, to be honest I've never understood why we use broomsticks. It's rather silly, if you think about it. We could just as easily enchant chairs, rugs or even automobiles. Again, it is a matter of tradition. The point is, we use enchanted objects because we lack the technology to do it any other way. Your existence, and the state of your technology, is miraculous to us. There is so much we could learn from you. And it is our hope that we can help you as well. We are all human, and we have everything to gain by working together."

"You've repeatedly called us your cousins," Baltar said. "President Roslin said as much. What evidence do you have of this?"

"We have genetic, historical and anecdotal evidence," Hermione said with a firm nod. "Most compelling of all, though, was what we observed in the Tomb of Athena on Kobol. Harry, would you?"

Laura watched in confusion as the Admiral removed an impossibly large mirror from his pocket—a mirror easily ten feet long and four feet wide that he pulled from a pocket only a few inches wide or deep. That fact alone left Porter gibbering. Though most were too stunned by the dimensions to notice, for her part Laura wondered how Potter could move such a large, obviously heavy mirror without assistance.

He then removed a pair of folding wooden easels from his other pocket which he spaced out and placed the mirror on. "Is it possible to dim the lights?" Hermione asked.

A slack-jawed Bagshot came to his senses long enough to motion for the ensign by the door who was serving as their sergeant at arms to lower the lights.

"What you are about to witness can be attested to by Commander Adama, Commander Delapina and President Roslin as an accurate…video, I suppose is the word…of the message provided by the Lords of Kobol in the Tomb of Athena," Commander Potter said.

Laura couldn't help but frown as she walked around toward the desks so she too could watch. The mirror flashed, and though there was no sound, the picture quality was such that it looked almost as if they were there, in the cavern, watching.

"How did you capture this?" she asked.

"The Lords of Kobol created the imagery using a type of magical technology we developed independently ourselves thousands of years later," Hermione said. "It is akin to taking one of your data disks with the imagery on it, and simply playing it on another device. This is a copy of the original message from the Tomb of Athena. We thought it much too valuable to just leave there. That image right there, of the shape of the continents as the Lord of Kobol's first galleon leaves the planet, is absolute proof that the Lords of Kobol originated on Earth. Those continents are well known to us." She used her wand to produce a red dot on the mirror. "Africa, Europe, Asia, the Arabian Peninsula. Harry, continue, please."

She narrated the images, explaining how the early mages who colonized Kobol were able to stop time itself, but only did so because they lacked the science to exceed the speed of light. As the images proceeded, she explained about the harvesting of magical creatures, and then how magic seemed to be leeched away from the population, leaving fewer and fewer mages left, until the handful that remained fled back to Earth.

"From our own history, we know those that returned to Earth landed in a small landmass called Atlantis, in the ocean of the same name, some four thousand years ago. The descendants of the Atlanteans went on to spread out over the whole world. Every person on our ship can trace their ancestry to an Atlantean mage."

"This…this can only be a work of fiction," Baltar said, shaking his head.

"We'll be glad to provide you with DNA samples," Doctor Barnes said, speaking for the first time. "After we saved some of your civilians left adrift, I performed DNA tests to try and figure out who they were. I used Y-line DNA, Mitochondrial DNA, Autosomal DNA, and X-Chromosome tests, which are the only four we know of. Not only are we humans of a common evolutionary branch, in fact we have a common point of ethnic origin on Earth as well. As I said, I will be glad to share not only my results, but additional samples as well."

"Commander Potter, Doctor Barnes, I have a question for you," Representative Bagshot said. "I heard rumors that Admiral Potter was attacked by a Cylon agent during his first meeting with Commander Delapina. Tell me, do you have a means of telling Cylons apart from normal humans?"

Roslin noticed how Dr. Barnes looked carefully at the Potters before nodding. "The humanoid Cylons have an organic transceiver in their heads. We can detect the transceiver with a simple spell, but I have no doubt we could create an easier means to detect them."

The representative of Canceron, an older woman with long, graying brown hair, nodded to Harry.

"Admiral Potter, this has been fascinating, and I am interested in learning more, but the purpose of this meeting isn't just to establish who we all are, but rather what we're going to do. So, to that purpose, I ask what is the intent of your people? What is it you want?"

Harry stepped to the podium. "Thank you, Madam Representative. It's a good question, and it deserves an honest answer. I want to live. I want to watch my children grow up, make bad decisions and survive to regret them. I want my friends and family to live. I want all of us, my people and yours, to live. More importantly, I want us to live together. I read that there were well over twenty billion people in your Colonies. There were almost seven billion on Earth. And now, there are between our fleets less than a quarter million human beings left alive in the whole universe."

He paused and looked each representative in the eye. "We are your brothers and sisters. We've been separated by thousands of years, and our abilities may seem fantastic to you, but we are one people. And with so few of us left, we can't afford to continue apart. As one of our world's leaders once said, a house divided cannot stand. But together, with your technology and our magic, I think we can find strength again. That's what I and my people strive for, and what we hope and pray for."

All in all, Laura decided, it could have gone much worse.


	28. Searching For Hope

A/N: Chap 27 review responses are in my forums like normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Eight: Searching For Hope**

October 23rd, 2013 (Day 101 CH)

Davin Proudfoot sat at one side of the rectangular table, and Sergeant Jill Hadrian sat on the other. The two stared at each other with similarly blank expressions. At the two ends of the table, Admiral Potter and Admiral Adama each read matching sheets of paper. Each paper had writing in both Caprican and English, side-by-side.

"Will this need to be ratified by your Quorum?" Harry asked as he read.

"Fleet security falls strictly under my prevue," Adama said. "And your Advisory Council?"

"Same."

Adama grunted as he continued reading. "Will this 'ward' impact any of the systems on my ship?"

"No," Harry said. "It's what we call passive magic—no energy will leak from it. It will create a static barrier across whatever portal you designate. For you, it will feel like you're walking near a thunderstorm—a mild increase in static electricity. It would only be harmful if you stood directly in the field for a few straight days, non-stop. For a Cylon, it will cause a sharp, debilitating pain in their cerebral transceiver. You wanted to find a way to identify Cylons? Set this up at the entrance to your galley, or at any major egress or entrance points of your ship, and just watch."

"Sounds too easy," Sergeant Hadrian said in a flat tone.

"As our seer pointed out the first time Cylons tried infecting our computers, not every barrier has to be a mountain," Harry said. He put the sheet down. "Admiral, we know the Cylons are following you. We can't see them because they are not…real, in a sense. They have no souls. But they can't see us mages either. The only exception was when we accidently took a Cylon on board. They could then track us with unerring accuracy. If you have Cylons on board your ships, any of them, then the Cylons will always know exactly where you are."

"If that's the case, why haven't they attacked?"

"Probably because they don't want you all dead yet," Harry surmised. "As for the reason why that may be? I could only guess."

"Any mages that come aboard any ship in the fleet will require a marine escort," Adama said, getting back on track.

"I agree, both for your fleet's sake, and the sake of my personnel," Harry said easily enough. "I'd also suggest you make uniforms available to them so that they don't obviously stand out. With the Quorum still in negotiations with us, I think you'd agree we don't want to advertise a presence on board."

"I can coordinate that," Proudfoot said, speaking for the first time since he introduced himself. "I present my people to the Sergeant here, and let her determine placement according to Admiral Adama's orders. It's generally how we operated with non-magical law enforcement back home. It was never our intent to take the lead in any operations, only to provide support. It's still your ship."

"I can live with that," Sergeant Hadrian said with a dip of her chin that on someone other than a marine might have been construed as a nod.

"Then we're agreed," Adama said. "Sergeant, work with Director Proudfoot to schedule rotations and traffic points for these 'wards' of theirs."

"Sir, yes sir!"

Hadrian stood, and Proudfoot did the same. Like Harry, the former Auror had transfigured his ship-board uniform into something not too dissimilar to what the Colonials wore. The two security heads left the small conference room and the two admirals. When they were gone, Adama sighed.

"The President told me your offer," Adama said. "Can you really heal her?"

"Me personally? Wouldn't even know where to start. Mages don't get cancer. Healer Tonks? Or Doctor Barnes? Yes, Admiral. We really can. But we won't, not without her permission."

Adama nodded tiredly before patting his chest and the healed scar there. "I'll talk to her. We have a lot of sick people in the fleet, her included. It does no one any good to let unnecessary illness linger."

"We don't want to make their illnesses worse by bringing them aboard our ships, but I bet we could finagle a good-will tour with some of our physicians and healers," Harry said. "It might sell well with the Quorum."

Adama abruptly stood. "Walk with me, Admiral."

While technically Harry outranked Adama in that he was both an admiral and head of state, Adama was old enough to be Harry's father. There was definitely something fatherly in the Colonial admiral's bearing that Harry, never having had a father, found himself responding to unconsciously.

The two men left the conference room outside _Galactica's_ CIC and began walking side-by-side through the ship's halls. While not as wide as _Invincible_ , the halls were wide enough to allow easy movement of crew and marines in the event of battle, with heavy bulkheads every few feet that could provide cover in the event of an enemy boarding action.

Because of Harry's transfigured clothes and young appearance, he didn't garner the attention that the Old Man did, as his crew referred to him. Harry noted how crew would snap to one side and salute when Adama passed, and how the Admiral nodded acknowledgment even as he walked, hands behind his back.

"You're thirty-five?" Adama asked.

Harry nodded.

"You hide your age well."

"I feel them more some days than others. However, magic tends to help some of us live longer than others. The headmaster of my school was over a hundred and fifteen when he was killed in a civil war. The woman who administered his school tests when he was a child was still alive when the radiation issues finally did her in."

Adama grunted in reply, but seemed lost in thought was he led Harry through the massive, labyrinthine ship. Finally, after stairs and lifts and seemingly endless halls, they arrived at the largest, empty spot Harry had seen on the ship.

"Where are we?"

"Starboard landing pod," Adama noted. On one end of the seemingly endless stretch of deck plating was a series of windows that revealed open space filled with dots that Harry knew were the other ships of the fleet. However, a large section was covered in make-shift metal plating.

"We were boarded while I was incapacitated," Adama said. "Only a dozen centurions. They almost took the ship. There are thousands out there, maybe hundreds of thousands or even millions. They have bases and infrastructure. With the ships you brought in, we have roughly 56,000 Colonial survivors. We have no bases. We have limited manufacturing capabilities and dwindling resources. We're running for our lives, but we can't run forever. Within the next five to six years, our ships will begin to break down beyond repair. That's assuming we haven't run out of tylium, already starved to death, or the Cylons haven't finished us off."

He strolled toward the windows and patches, hands behind his back, and stopped at a point twenty feet from one of the intact windows. "I stood right here and gave a retirement and decommissioning speech. And just hours later, it all came crashing down."

Harry listened in silence, realizing that Adama wasn't speaking so much to him, but rather just saying words he had to say, but which he could not say to anyone in his fleet. Still, something began to sink in.

"You kept your people going through hope," Harry realized aloud. "Hope for Earth. And now that we've come, that hope has been crushed, because your faith in the idea of Earth has been ruined by the reality of it."

Adama said nothing; he simply stood looking out among the stars with his hands behind his back. Harry stood as well, his mind racing.

"A year before I was born, a seer gave a prophecy that a child was going to be born that could destroy a powerful wizard who'd been terrifying my nation-state for years. The prophecy narrowed down the subjects to two boys—myself and a friend named Neville. The Dark Lord chose me as the greater threat."

Harry spoke quietly, just as Adama did, talking about the series of events that led to his fame and the unusual level of authority and respect he had despite his admitted youth. "I guess it was faith and acceptance that led me to walk out into that forest, knowing I was going to die. It's amazing what faith can do."

At some point, Adama had stopped his contemplative gaze to the stars and redirected it to Harry. When Harry was done, Adama snorted.

"Your leadership must have been incompetent."

"You don't know the half of it," Harry agreed. "I can tell you things changed under my watch. We had three wizards just as powerful as Voldemort try to get started. I put them down so fast they never had a chance to gather followers. The reason I told you, though, is this—faith is important. If you're people have lost faith in Earth, then we need to give them something else to have faith in."

"What do you suggest?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe we can give them a prophecy of their own. You have your own oracles in your fleet, and we have a seer on board our ship so powerful she confessed to me that she can see every human's fate within tens of thousands of miles. These oracles are a part of your religion. Maybe we should have them meet ours and see what happens."

Adama raised a brow. He grunted and turned to the window. "I'll talk to the President."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

In keeping with Hermione's standing order to delegate, Harry chose to appoint ambassadors for the Mage fleet to the Quorum of Twelve. He'd considered Bill Weasley, but in the end he chose two representatives as co-ambassadors—Madeline Hooper, whose failing health made her questionable, but whose experience in the American magical Congress was invaluable, and Donald Lauer, the former lawyer.

Because of these appointments, it was neither necessary nor even desirable for either Harry or Roslin to attend the day-to-day meetings. However, upon the request of the representative from Gemenon, Harry and Laura both joined the fifth day of formal discussions.

After the appropriate greetings and opening words, it was the Colonial quorum member Sarah Porter herself who broached the purpose of the leader's presence.

"Admiral Potter, I've heard you mention your seer," she began. "You've implied that she is quite powerful."

"Yes, madam, she is," Harry said with a nod. He made a point of not looking at Roslin, whom he knew probably planted the idea in Porter's head.

"Is she unique in your society?"

"She's uniquely powerful, yes, but she's not unique in having prescient abilities," Harry said carefully. "Divination is a discipline practiced by many in our society. I myself was born under a prophecy that came true, and I know before our fall we had whole sections of our government dedicated to the study of prophecies."

Porter nodded, seemingly satisfied. Harry noticed that Baltar looked frankly bored, while the other representatives were less enthused by the discussion.

Porter cleared her throat after glancing around the room. "It so happens that one of my world's leading Oracles survived and is currently on the _Pyxis._ Oracle Enriana Canlisle has expressed interest in meeting this seer of yours."

"Why limit such a meeting to just one?" Laura asked. "Dodona Selloi has survived and is on the _Chrion._ I've heard of another well-known Virgo oracle elsewhere in the fleet. Perhaps having Oracles work together, they might provide some insight into next steps."

Marshall Bagshot snorted. "Or erupt in a cat fight. I've heard that Oracles don't get along well with each other. Selloi is a priestess of Hera. Sarah, yours is a priestess of Apollo. Admiral Potter, is yours also a priestess?"

Harry shrugged. "I've not asked, Representative Bagshot. I'm not sure she's dedicated herself exclusively to any one god."

" _Nice,_ " Roslin whispered _sotto voce._

"Would you be opposed to oracles visiting your ship, Admiral?" Porter asked.

"Opposed? I'd actually be quite thrilled," Harry said with a bright smile. "My wife, as you've seen, is herself a raging skeptic, and Cassandra even convinced her. It would be our honor to host your oracles. And if we are going to bring all your oracles over, well, to be fair President Roslin should be included."

Laura turned and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Madam President, you are an oracle," Harry said, not backing down from her obvious displeasure. "I've heard of the visions that led you to Kobol, and led you to obtain the Arrow of Apollo. More importantly, one of our magical expects witnessed you having a vision on Kobol and testified to your power as an oracle. The fact that Earth is no longer accessible does not change the fact that you had very powerful, very accurate visions. You may actually be the most powerful oracle in your fleet."

He turned to look at the Quorum, all of whom were now sitting up attentively. However, none appeared particularly surprised, especially not those quorum members who openly sided with Roslin when the fleet split.

"If we are genuinely trying to find a next step forward, then surely you would agree that only those with the clearest vision should do the search."

"Surely," Laura said dryly. She put her poker face back on, but Harry was certain he'd lost ground with the President.

He decided it was worth it. These people obviously put a huge stock in their religion, and having an entirely outside, independent authority confirm their president's status within their religion just made Roslin that more authentic as their leader.

Given who their Vice President was, Harry wanted to keep Roslin in office as long as he could.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

The raptor barely fit into the _Invincible's_ small bay, and only then because they dialed back their lodestones to reduce the magical field to prevent the small craft from frying itself out. Rather than remain, the small military ship departed immediately after depositing its cargo.

Harry stood with Aurora Sinestra, who held the official rank of Lieutenant Commander but never actually used it. Since Captain Patterson was on duty, Commander Seamus Finnigan joined them to represent the ship.

The four oracles climbed out of the raptor in a slow progression, each uniquely attired. Laura, still unhappy with the label Harry applied to her, wore her normal professional garb, a knee-length skirt and jacket over a cream-colored blouse with hose and heels. Behind her, the eldest of the Oracles wore plain, unadorned white robes with a blue head wrap that left a swath of blue fabric hanging down over her chest.

Behind her came Yolandra Brenn from Virgo, the youngest of the Oracles. Unlike Selloi, she wore cargo pants, black boots and a tan pocket-vest over a plain black T-shirt. She looked to be in her early twenties and was the most physically attractive of the lot.

The final oracle was the largest. Eriana Canlisle had rich, dark chocolate skin with long, braided dreadlocks that hung in rows from her head. She looked heavy compared to the frail figure of Selloi and the athletic build of Brenn, but was not obese. Rather, she simply looked _strong_.

"Welcome aboard the _Invicible_ ," Harry said with a pleasant nod. "We're very pleased you're here. We have established quarters for you in the Avalon biosphere if you'd like to come with me."

"No, thank you," Dedona Selloi said in a breathy, absent voice.

Harry stifled his surprise had how very much she reminded him of Cassandra Appolline. The fragile-seeming woman said over her shoulder, "This way, sisters."

Brenn looked startled; Canlisle simply snorted and fell in with the others. Laura frowned but brought up the rear.

"Err, Admiral…?" Finnegan began.

"You know seers, Commander," Harry said with a shrug. "You ever know Luna to follow directions?"

"She was a seer?" Finnegan asked.

"Oh, Ms. Lovegood certainly was," Sinestra said. "She just didn't care to see the future. Well, they appear to know where they're going, so let's join them, shall we?"

Harry fell in beside the nonplussed President. "Where are we going, Admiral Potter?" she asked.

"Well, it appears we're heading toward the Astronavigation lab, which happens to be where our resident seer lives."

What Harry found most interesting was how easily Dedona fit in. She barely got any odd looks because her robes could easily be seen as a witch's robe. Her headwrap was not so different than what Quirrell wore, and he was not considered an outlandish dresser at all. Canlisle got a few looks simply because there weren't that many six-foot tall, well-muscled women in the magical world.

When they arrived at Astronavigation, Harry noted without surprise that Cassandra was waiting for them. She sat at a low circular table set on the floor with six cushions set around it. The table was set with a bowl of fruit, nuts and glasses of ship-made wine, as well as a large bowl of what Harry could only construe as incense. Cassandra sat at the table with her eyes closed. She wore a simple black dress very similar to what Selloi wore, though without the head wrap.

"Welcome, sisters," she said in clear Caprican without opening her eyes.

"Thank you, sister," Selloi said.

The two women did not speak like aliens from different worlds, but like long-time friends. Selloi sat next to Cassandra, while the other two oracles took their seats, leaving two seats free. Laura hesitantly took one.

Cassandra opened her eyes finally and regarded each of the oracles. Harry noticed how Brenn visible shivered under the gaze, while Laura looked uncomfortable. Dodana beamed, while Canlisle held herself perfectly still.

"Seamus, dear, please close the door on the way out," Cassandra said.

"Er, what?"

"You can stare at Yolanda later, dear. She'll be here for several weeks."

Harry had the pleasure of seeing his old roommate blush furiously. " _Roit_. Admiral." He turned and almost ran from the room.

"What was that about?" Yolanda said, eyes wide and shivering again.

It was Canlisle who answered. Her voice was as deep and strong as her appearance. "You're future is all over that boy, child."

Brenn looked alarmed at the idea. Harry tried to determine if he should leave or not.

It was Selloi who answered. "Admiral, you are a lightning rod of prophecy. You should stay."

Harry shrugged and took a seat nearby on a cushion he now realized was left there just for him.

"I have read of your chamalla," Cassandra said quietly when everyone was settled. "We do not have it—I've never needed it. However, on the table is a derivative of a plant from Earth called a cactus which contains a very similar chemical compound. Given its origins and inherent magical properties, you will find it will induce your vision far more powerfully than what you have used in the past. Place it in your wine when you are ready."

"What effects will it have?" Laura asked. "I've not particularly enjoyed my visions."

"The Gods don't care if you enjoy their touch," Canlisle said, unheeding of Roslin's position as president.

Selloi did not hesitate. She reached into the bowl of what Harry thought was incense and sprinkled a healthy dose of a fine powder into her wine. She drank the whole cup without hesitation. Brenn, with worried looks around the table, did the same. Canlisle drank hers, leaving only Roslin.

"I'm sick," she said.

"For now," Cassandra said with a wry smile. "You won't be when you leave this ship."

Laura glanced at Harry.

"I don't know what the future holds," he said. "I don't claim faith in gods or heaven. But I know Cassandra Appoline, and I know those like her. I have faith in her. And I have faith in you, President Roslin."

"Take the wine, child," Selloi whispered, her eyes already half closed. "As much as Potter is shrouded in Prophecy, you are as well. Two children of prophecy, together. The paths converge. Take the wine, child."

Roslin finally sprinkled the mescaline in her cup and drank it down. After she did, Cassandra held out her hands. To her sides, Dedona and Eriana each took a hand. Dedona then took Roslin's hand, while Eriana took Yolanda's.

"Child of prophecy, complete the circle," Cassandra said.

Harry shrugged. "What? I'm not a seer."

"You are the Master of Death. You carry the Deathly Hallows in your soul. You are the child of prophecy; the living nexus upon which the future of our people hinges. It is not your sight we require, it is your power. Join us, Harry." She then smiled wistfully. "I promise I shan't kiss you."

Dodona began to laugh raucously, and somehow Harry realized the elder Oracle knew what had happened between he and Cassandra. "Do I have to take your drugs?"

"Only if you wish to get high," Cassandra said.

Rolling his eyes, Harry moved the cushion to the table and sat between Laura and Yolanda. The moment he completed the circle, the other women stiffened as if an electric current ran through them.

"Holy Phoebus!" Eriana exclaimed.

Brenn looked like she was melting.

"Er, are you all okay?" Harry asked worried.

"Shut up, Harry," Cassandra said, though in the same low tone. "We're basking in the glow of your magic."

"Er, okay."

Harry didn't particularly feel anything other than a swirl of magic in the air that reminded him of an active ward. However, each of the women around the table, young and old, appeared caught up in the throes of…

He tried to hide his blush, because it looked very much like the women were all experiencing sexual passion. He found himself thankful that Hermione was not there.

They began to sway, their hands still linked around him. Harry found himself having to sway just to keep the president or Yolanda Brenn from head-butting him. Whatever concerns Roslin might have had appeared utterly lost in the throes of the oracle's shared vision.

Abruptly they stopped. "Did you see?" Brenn whispered, eyes still closed.

"We saw," Canlisle assured her. "Can we find it?"

Cassandra opened her eyes, and behind the table the navigation column suddenly burst to life. Harry had to crane all the way around since neither Brenn nor Roslin let go of his hand. The display seemed to respond to Cassandra's magic without the need of a wand, because it began to zoom through various stars until it reached a crowded, dusty nebula cloaking a white dwarf and the shattered remnants of its former planets. The display continued to zoom in until an unusually cylindrical asteroid dominated the field.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A relic of the past," Cassandra explained. "In the years between when the mages of ancient Earth landed on Kobol, and their magic died, they reached a pinnacle of magic and technology we on Earth never dreamed of. After all, they knew it was possible to reach the stars—their maths and sciences proceeded without the burden of religion or war to hold it back. They were one people, unified in purpose."

"Pretend I'm not a seer," Harry said.

"It's an O'Neil cylinder, Harry," Cassandra said with an exasperated sigh. "A kilometer wide, six-kilometer-long cylinder housed inside a casing of asteroid material. It has almost twenty million square meters of surface area and with just one-point-three rotations a minute could simulate earth gravity. I'm sure Hermione will tell you all about such cylinders—we studied the designs when we were first exploring ideas for escaping Earth."

Harry didn't even bother to ask how she knew all that. He'd seen Appolline perform math functions in her head that he couldn't even do on a muggle calculator. Instead, he concentrated on what, exactly, it meant. How did one figure out the inner surface area of a cylinder anyway?

"Rotational gravity," Harry said, wrapping his mind around them. "Which means no active magical fields…"

"Which means the Colonials can use it," Cassandra finished. "In fact, in a very real sense it is a legacy of both our ancestors—it was built for both us. Between our cousins and us, we can make it live again."

"There is the other path," Canlisle noted.

"Colorless. Without soul," Dedona said. "Without magic. You have felt it, tasted it. Are you so ready to reject magic forever?"

Harry tensed in alarm as he realized the Oracles knew about what the Cylons offered. _Of course they know_ , he thought bitterly to himself.

"It is a choice you must make," Cassandra said. She was now staring intently at Roslin. "Immortality without souls, reduced to biological machines, or mortality with magic. Become Cylon, or remain human. You must make the choice, daughter of prophecy. Only when your choice is made can we see the full path."

Roslin looked bitterly at Harry. "You were going to try and hide it from us."

He shrugged. "You would have done the same damned thing."

"I can't make that type of decision right now," Laura said. "I need time to think."

"We know," Dodona Selloi said gently. "And that is why we are going to remain on this ship. Harry, child, we're ready to see our quarters now. Perhaps you can have young Commander Finnegan guide us." She smirked at a wide-eyed Yolanda.

* * *

A/N: You just can't hide shit from Oracles. This was a make-or-break chapter for the story. This was where I originally stopped, and it was the final scene that made me realize I could finish it, and that I would be posting it. Like all my stories, it may not float everyone's boat, but it worked very well for me.

Thanks for reading.


	29. Political Convenience

A/N: Chap 28 review responses are in my forums as normal. Thank you all for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Twenty-Nine: Political Convenience**

October 31st, 2013 (Day 109 CH)

"What the frak was that?"

The entire CIC turned and stared at Colonel Tigh, who was bending over and holding the back of his head as if he'd been struck with a hammer.

"Sir?" Specialist Dualla looked spooked, as did many of the rest of the staff.

"Someone just knocked the frak out of me, and I want to know who did it!" Tigh shouted angrily. His ever-present, ambrosia-laced coffee sloshed in his hand as he yelled.

"It's going to be another one of those days," Lieutenant Gaeta muttered with a roll of his eyes.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Laura stared for the longest time at the monitor, even after the images had faded. She's just returned to _Colonial One_ after the most astonishing, life-changing few days she'd ever experienced, only to find hell waiting for her. She was going to live. The cancer was gone. She should have been celebrating. Instead, she found herself dealing with yet another disaster.

"Gods," she said after a long breath. "It's been over a month since we returned from Kobol, Bill. Why am I just now seeing this?"

"We didn't know the tape even existed," Adama admitted. He sighed tiredly and rubbed his eyes. "There have been some computer glitches as well on _Galactica_ that've been distracting us _._ As soon as the report aired, Saul showed me the report."

Laura's spine stiffened. "He made an error of this magnitude, and he didn't make the report until after he was publicly caught?"

Adama did not look impressed. "It was sitting on my desk, along with forty-eight other action reports I haven't had a chance to look at yet. He showed me where in the stack it was. Yes, the situation spiraled out of control. He made a hard call. I'm not going to blame him for it—he was in command."

Despite his very obvious efforts at reconciliation, Laura knew there were limits to how far she could push the Commander. When it came to his crew and his friends, Bill Adama was absolutely loyal. But this was too big to ignore or cover up.

"We were going to announce my cancer being cured and the Good Will tour today," Laura said. "We can't do that, not with this hanging over our heads."

Laura stood and paced his office. Since her return from _Invincible_ , she found herself floundering. Everything she thought she believed was called into question. The Lords of Kobol were not gods, they were witches and wizards slowly losing their magic until only people remained. The historical aspects of their religion with mostly accurate, but the divine aspects of it were, if everything was to be believed, all wrong.

And now, with the sword of her mortality no longer hanging over her neck, she found it hard to focus on her duties. She should have felt relieved and happy; she didn't understand why she felt so lost.

Her ruminations were interrupted by a knock. "Enter," Adama called.

The heavy door opened and two people walked in, only one of whom she recognized as the marine who acted as head of ship's security. The other wore a similar uniform, but with a badge identifying him as a mage from _Invincible_.

"Sir, sorry to interrupt!" Sergeant Hadrian said as she snapped a salute.

"At ease, Sergeant. What do you have for me?"

Laura felt a shiver as the normally unflappable sergeant appeared to hesitate a moment before she reached into the breast pocket of her uniform and handed the commander a sheet of paper. He took it without commend, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose. A second later he looked up, his dark eyes flashing in anger.

"This can't be right."

"Admiral, I confirmed it personally," the mage said.

"Dismissed." The order came out as a harsh bark. Hadrian saluted while the mage merely shrugged and followed her out.

Adama dropped the sheet on his desk and left the sofa he'd been sitting on to get himself a drink. Curious, Laura drifted over to the sheet of paper. There was a list of names on it—dozens, evne hundreds, of names. Among the names, she saw with a sense of dull shock Saul and Ellen Tigh, Galen Tyrol and even one of her assistants, Tory Foster. By the time she saw D'Anna Biers name further down the list, she was no longer surprised.

"These are…these are Cylons, aren't they?"

Adama had his back to her, head bowed over his small, dwindling wet-bar. "He's been my friend for twenty years," the Admiral said. "All a frakking lie!"

He spun and threw his glass across the room faster than Laura could believe. She jumped in place at the explosive sound of shattering glass. He spun back around, gripping the counter so hard his knuckles were white.

"It's possible he may not even know, Bill," Laura said softly. "Valentii didn't know, not until the end. But if it's true…"

"If it's true, he's a danger to this ship," Adama growled.

"How did you identify them?"

"Magic." Adama spat the word out.

Laura sat back down on the sofa and stared at the monitor where she'd just watched marines killing civilians on the _Gideon_. The reporter, D'Anna Biers, managed somehow to obtain the footage and was broadcasting it throughout the fleet, fomenting anger toward _Galactica_ and inquiries from the Quorum that were directly impacting their talks with the mages.

The marines were sent by Commander Tigh while Admiral Adama was incapacitated. The politician in her began to manipulate the facts into a solution that would serve everyone, except Adama's grief.

"Admiral," she said carefully. "I can't imagine your grief at this betrayal. It is obvious to me that Commander Tigh colluded with his fellow Cylon, this Biers woman, to create an incident that would further destabilize the fleet and undermine our leadership."

He turned and glared, knowing exactly what she was doing. "Saul Tigh deserves better than that. The man saved my life more than once."

"And he's going to save you again with his sacrifice. Bill, if he's a Cylon, he's just going to download into a new body. Cylon's don't die."

"I know that."

Laura realized there was little she could do to help with the man's grief, so she stood and left his office.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"Your people reported two hundred and forty-three Cylons on my fleet," Adama said.

"So far," Harry said grimly. "There are three more ships we haven't hit yet. We're being as subtle as we can be, but it's only a matter of time before they figure out we've spotted them. Some may be sleepers, like Colonel Tigh. Others, though, are undoubtedly active saboteurs. They can pull it off because your population groups are so isolated. We're going to have to really think about the best way to deal with them."

Commander Delapina shook his own head as he reviewed the list. "Two of these people are mine."

"Why are these four the only ones without duplicates?" Major Tannith asked. She motioned toward the photos of Colonel Tigh and his wife Ellen, Galen Tyrol, and the President's aide Tory Foster.

"Is there any chance they may not be Cylons?" Delapina asked.

Harry shook his head. "None. Proudfoot got close enough to do a charm on Ellen Tigh. She has the organic transceiver in her head, just like all the other Cylons we've examined."

"There are too many here to try and arrest without the others finding out," Colonel Tannith said. The new commander of the _Notus_ carried herself with a casual competence that Harry could only admire. She reminded him a great deal of his own Captain Peterson, in fact.

Harry tapped the table absently as he wracked his mind for a solution to the conundrum of the Cylons.

"The fact is that the moment we kill one, they'll download into a new body and the entire Cylon fleet will not only know we're onto them, they'll know where we are. My friends, though it flies in the face of both our cultures, I don't see how we do anything other than kill them en masse."

Tannith reared back from the table as if slapped. Adama showed no reaction as he leaned back in his seat, one arm stretched across the report of names on the table. The executive staff of the fleet gathered in Adama's personal wardroom to talk about the results of the expanded search.

"The President is of the opinion that the recent bad press be placed at the feet of these identified Cylons," he said coolly.

"Smart politically, but could backfire," Delapina said. "If we just start assassinating people, the fleet may think you and Roslin are trying to solidify a dictatorship."

"Bread and circuses," Harry muttered.

The others turned and stared.

"Sorry, classical Earth reference," Harry explained with a bit of a blush. "Look, if we move against them, they'll know. Unless we make them think something else is going on. Let's give the fleet a show—maybe set up video players in each ship so the President can do a live broadcast. We send out two mages for each identified Cylon—we have enough. They go in disillusioned so the Cylons won't see them. Everyone assembles to watch the show, and at a trigger word from the president, every mage fires a stunning spell at the Cylons."

"A stunning spell?" Tannish asked. "Assuming that means what it sounds like, how will merely stunning them help?"

"Our magic is lethal to Cylons," Harry said grimly. "Just having one inside our ship killed her within a week. A Cylon on Commander Delapina's ship opened fire on me when I first landed. I stunned him, and he died instantly. Using stunners ensures that no civilians will be hurt, while making sure the Cylons themselves are killed. And then, once we have them all down, we dump the bodies…"

"And jump," Adama said. "That's a lot of variables, Admiral Potter."

"It's a lot of Cylons, Admiral Adama," Harry countered.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Katie Bell did not care for the odd red jumper Proudfoot put her in. However, given she was accompanied by one her new auror trainees she chose not to complain. She was a captain now, after all, and had to buck up for the new aurors David brought in.

Besides, the Colonial marine who accompanied them was really, really cute. The man led them through the cramped halls of the massive cargo ship _Baah Pakal,_ a ship that also housed almost eight hundred people.

Katie, with a smudge of grease on her cheek to sell the impression of her as a technician, tried not to wrinkle her nose at the smell of unwashed humanity that strained the ship's air cyclers. She'd known from her brief contact with the colonials on Kobol that they were a desperate, wounded people just like her own were.

The difference is she lived in a spacious cabin with another auror, got to walk through kilometers of land with fresh, naturally generated air every day, and had plenty of food and water.

These people did not have any of that. They looked hungry, tired and bordered on desperation. She could almost taste a palpable fear in the air, though that might have also been sweat and who knows what else was circulating through the halls.

They finally reached the ship's largest open space—a storage bay designed to hold ship parts. It had most been scavenged by the _Galactica_ and _Asteria,_ but now provided a good place for the people of the ship to gather for President Roslin's address.

A squib for the president. Katie loved the idea. Then again, she was Muggleborn. She tried not to think of her own family, left back in Chatham when the end came.

The thing about Colonials that confused her was that they were walking through an honest-to-Merlin space ship about to set up a television. No fancy holograms or lasers or anything like what she saw in the movies growing up. The Colonials used phones and televisions and radio receivers. They wore clothes that would not have been out of place in London or New York.

They were the direct descendants of the same ancestors as Katie herself. But with thousands of years separation.

"This way," the captain of the _Baah Pakal_ said. The man looked old, with loose skin indicative of recently lost weight. His bald, dark scalp gleamed with sweat under the dull yellow lights overhead. Rather than part of a spaceship, the place looked like a cheap warehouse she might find on the docks in Portsmouth or Southampton.

"Come on, Mills," Katie said to her trainee.

Mills, too, was Muggleborn. He was part of the Canadian group that arrived shortly before the _Invincible_ took off. Like her, he was also now an orphan and was trying to take care of a sister half his age.

Behind them, the third member of their group and the only actual technician pushed the television they were going to use. The man had no idea who Katie or Mills were, nor did the captain. Only the cute marine, Corporal Acathan, knew who they were or why they were there.

They reached the impromptu podium at the end of the table. Katie and Mills pretended to help while the poor technician did the work connecting the television to the ship's audio and video receivers. The entire fleet had grouped together to receive the signals from _Colonial One_.

People started shuffling in as the technician worked. Katie kept her eyes open for their marks, and spotted them easily enough just from the tracer glow the detection Wards placed on them. There were four of them all told, and if not for the tracer they would have been indistinguishable from the other people. The two men looked as tired and desperate as the rest—one an older man with frosted hair at his temples, the other a handsome black man with a ring of black hair parted in a natural tonsure at the crown.

The women were cute, if you liked beanpoles instead of curves. The tall, leggy brunette had pale skin that made her hair look fake. The shorter girl was identical to the spy in the refugees they saved.

Only the way the fleet was broken up by ships with limited face-to-face communication kept these Cylons from being identified immediately. Katie knew for a fact that each of them had dozens of copies throughout the fleet. She'd seen the memories in the department Penseive.

Once the television was hooked up, Acathan led she and Mills to the back of the room. She caught sight of their other two comrades from the _Invincible_ —Ron Weasley and one of the Frenchies in the second-shift engineering crew. They only had a hundred and fifty aurors fleet-wide so far, so had to fill in spaces with volunteers from the various ship crews to cover every one of their targets. With her eyes alone, Katie let Ron know who she'd picked out—the tall leggy one with the bad dye job.

The Frenchie picked the small Asiatic copy, while Mills tagged the old man and Ron himself tagged the handsome guy.

Katie _smirked._ Ron was probably jealous of the man's looks.

The wide, flat television buzzed to life. The picture quality was awful, but still viewable. It showed a podium with the Colonial's government seal on it. Moments later Roslin stepped into view. Katie smiled when she recognized the dress as being one of Lucinda Waefre's latest from Avalon Alley on the _Invincible_. From what she'd seen, it was probably the newest article of clothing the Colonials had throughout their fleet.

It was a metallic blue and tailored perfectly to the president's form, with lapels like a Muggle suit but open to just a hint of _décolletage._ More importantly, she wore a blue crystal on a simple chain around her neck. According what she was told of the Colonial Religion, the President was essentially declaring herself to be an oracle.

Which, given that she was, made perfect sense.

" _Thank you for your time, and your patience_ ," the President began.

Katie thought her voice would sound tinny from the tiny television speakers, but evidently the one tech who actually knew what he was doing routed the audio through the ship's speakers. Her voice came through loud and clear.

" _Just over a hundred days ago, Colonial civilization as we knew it came to an abrupt, terrible end. All of us lost family and friends. But more than that, we lost our homes and our innocence. For all too many of us, we lost hope_."

Katie inched a little closer to her target. When she was only a few feet away and had a clear line of sight, and confirmed the others had their targets in sight, she sent the signal through her tiny mirror.

" _With our worlds burning around us and no clear destination, Admiral Adama and I made the decision to go back to our roots; to find Kobol, and from there, perhaps our lost Thirteenth Tribe on Earth. We needed hope, because even as the enemy burned our homes, still they hunted us."_

Her mirror vibrated. Once. Twice.

Three times was a go.

" _Even as our enemies hounded us, we also discovered allies. We found additional survivors. We discovered Kobol itself, and while there, we found the true path to Earth. And now, my brothers and sisters, we are at a crossroads. The terrible truth is we cannot run forever. And that is the crossroads we are at as a people: Do we choose to continue to flee until we cannot flee any longer, or do we choose to survive. More, to thrive and grow again. As your president, I have chosen. I say mere survival is not enough. Slavery is not enough. The only way to go is forward."_

Katie had her wand out. The other three mages did as well, all aimed quietly at their target. The code word was "Forward." The moment the president said it, not just on the _Baah Pakal_ but on every ship across the street, two hundred and forty-three witches and wizards shot stunning spells at two hundred and forty-three Cyclons.

People screamed as the four targets collapsed. Before panic could set in, Katie cast a _Sonorous_ charm on herself. "YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE!"

In the enclosed space of the bay, Katie's magically magnified voice shattered any panic into little pieces of numbed shock and awe.

She decreased the magic marginally. "Thank you. No one is in danger. This was a planned operation; the four persons have been identified as sleeper agents of the Cylons. The President is going to continue her address in five minutes, or as soon as she receives confirmation that the operation has been successful. Please, no one panic."

Acathan had already motioned for a pair of the ship's original crew to step forward and collect the four dead Cyclons. The people watched them hesitantly, but at least didn't start screaming.

No, scratch that, there was a little screaming, but it only lasted a few moments. It was the shouted questions which just sounded like screaming. Fortunately, the President must have received word because her voice over the speaker brought Katie some relief.

She was looking right at the audience when she continued. " _By now, many of you have witnessed an operation conducted in tandem with Fleet Marines and law enforcement agents from our new allies. This joint operation was the result of a great deal of work on the part of the Fleet and our new allies. But the cause of it stems from a terrible tragedy._

" _When I was first informed of the shooting of civilians on the_ Gideon _at the orders of Colonel Saul Tigh during his brief command, I was shocked at what seemed to be uncharacteristic violence. This action happened after a sleeper Cylon agent shot our admiral. I have since learned that Colonel Tigh was, himself, a sleeper agent. So was Deanna Biers, the journalist who made so sure to disseminate the video of the shooting. In fact, the fleet had over two hundred Cylon sleeper agents in its midst._

" _With the help of our new allies, we were able to identify them all, and as of five minutes ago, destroy them. Ladies and gentleman—brothers and sisters—we were being led and manipulated by our enemies even as we fled them. No more. For the first time since we fled the Colonies, our fleet is now free of Cylons."_

That got the crowd to muttering. They looked back as the last body was being removed, then at Katie. She winked at those closest to her, even as she sidled up next to the marine.

"So, what do you blokes do for fun?" she asked quietly.

Nearby, Ron Weasley rolled his eyes.

On the television and over the speakers, the President continued.

" _Three days ago, in closed session, the Quorum of Twelve sealed a Mutual Assistance Treaty with the North Atlantic Magical Preservation Organization, the fleet of three ships that saved eight thousand Colonials and led them to us. These three ships represent the last survivors of the Thirteenth Tribe of Man, just as we are the last survivors of the first twelve. For the first time in thousands of years, our peoples have come together once more. While we are still few in numbers, we stand united and strong, and together we will overcome all obstacles. We refuse to fade into the darkness. Just as our ancestors left Kobol and created something greater in us, so too will our descendants look back and call us all Lords."_

"Damn that woman has a way with words," Katie said.

" _We will share more with you in the days to come. For now, Captains, prepare to jump. I have no doubt the Cylons will want to know why they have lost all their eyes and ears on our ships."_

"I'm off duty in four hours," Acathan said to Katie with a tight grin. "What'd you have in mind?"


	30. Decision Point

A/N: Chap 29 review responses are in my forums as normal.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty: Decision Point**

November 15, 2013 (Day 124 CH)

Felix Gaeta watched intently as the petite, quiet Mage oracle scanned through the Galactica's computer systems in the _Galactica's_ CIC.

"There you are, you little rat," she whispered.

"You found it?" He tried not to wince at how childish he sounded, like a kid shopping with his moms whenever they visited Caprica City.

The woman nodded. "Yes. A Cylon logic bomb. Probably planted when you had your systems networked. Now that we know where it is…"

Gaeta didn't understand how the mage's power worked, but he couldn't deny that somehow the woman's little wooden stick acted as a firewall that simply burned the hostile code from Galactica's computer systems. "All done."

"I…that's incredible."

Cassandra Appolline gave the man a tired smile. "We do try. Now, if you'll excuse me? Your admiral is about to ask for me."

She was already heading out of the CIC with her marine escort when Admiral Adama's voice came over the com. " _Ms. Appolline to the Briefing Room, please."_

"I don't know whether to kiss her or burn her at the stake," Dualla said.

Gaeta laughed. "I know which one I'd choose. If that logic bomb had activated during an attack, we'd all be dead."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Harry watched as Cassandra slipped into the crowded briefing room on board the Galactica. She'd taken to wearing a headwrap similar to what the Caprican oracle, Dodona Selloi, wore. In fact, all of Oracles had taken to wearing the wraps. For all intents and purposes, the women had taken on the role of the fleet's religious leaders.

It took effort to bring his attention back to the debate bouncing around the table. On the view screen behind them were picture's taken from a long-range reconnaissance mission that had just returned from what the colonials called the Dendrites Nebula, which from what Hermione explained was the shattered remnants of a dead star. What had the Colonials and even the Mages arguing about was the object that Cassandra herself directed them to, based on the Oracle's findings.

It should not have surprised Harry that the Colonials knew what an O'Neil Cylinder was. Of course, they had no idea who the long-dead American physicist was, but the concept he described in the 70s was one the Colonials had known about almost throughout their history.

They called them Anchorages.

"Most anchorages are a torus shape," Commander Delapina explained to the Mages when the meeting first began. "During Exodus, the twelve galleons followed a series of anchorages the Lords of Kobol built to guide them to the Cyrannus System. The trip took two whole generations, and if not or the anchorages they'd have died. For whatever reason, they didn't have jump technology at the time."

"It was lost with the last of their magic," Hermione had guessed.

The sheer size of the anchorage in the Dendrite Nebula had astonished the Colonials, but in addition to still photos, the Raptor pilot had taken video from inside the cylinder. The scale of the construction astonished Harry.

It wasn't just the side, though any artificially constructed object that was half a kilometer wide ("More than that, Harry. The interior radius along is 250 meters, and the cylinder itself is 30 meters thick"), and six kilometers long just boggled his mind. But what really astonished him was that those dimensions rendered an interior surface area of almost a thousand square kilometers, which was as much land area as a mid-sized city.

On the surface, the anchorage seemed like a perfect solution to house the Colonial's population.

The problem would be finding a way to actually make the space habitat habitable with the resources and population available. More importantly, the idea of living in any type of space habitat evidently seemed to bother the Colonials on an instinctive, fundamental level.

At the moment Sarah Porter was talking about the harm living in space had already caused the people of the Twelve Colonies, and how staying in space was going to end up destroying them all. She and Baltar represented the Quorum of Twelve, while Madeline Hooper and William Stennis represented the Admiralty Council for the mages.

Harry and Captain White were there for the Mage Fleet, with Hermione by his side as always. Across the table, Adama and Delapina sat opposite.

And sitting in the first seats of the front row of several stadium-style seats, Cassandra joined the three Colonial oracles.

"So, sisters, what did I miss?"

Harry stiffened a little as he felt as much as heard the magic that amplified Cassandra's voice just enough to carry over Porter's impassioned speech.

Better yet, Eriana Canlisle didn't need magic—her booming voice carried all on its own. "Just my sister being obstinate. It's a hard thing leaving all you've known to follow the path of the gods."

It had to be a performance, Harry was sure about it. Canlisle's answer sounded like a proud mother talking about a stubborn child, not like a civilian talking about their elected leader. It carried both love and a note of exasperation that brought not just Porter, but the entire table, up short.

Cassandra's answer was just as evocative. "I understand. My own people lingered over a year around Earth. We didn't leave until the sight of the continents cracking grew too much. Like a child in a pool—leaving the edge is frightening if you're not sure you can swim."

Across the conference table, Harry met Adama's eyes. The older man smirked just a tad, fully aware of what the oracles were doing. More importantly, he played along. Harry knew this had to be a Colonial decision, not something the Mages could impose.

He turned In his seat and studied the four women of various ages and builds, like a representation of the colonies themselves. "Ladies, do you have something to share?"

Of the four, Harry also knew it had to be Canlisle who led the way. From the cultural briefing Miriam Margoline gave, Canlisle was a fundamentalist priestess of Hera, the patron Goddess of Gemenon. The people of that world were generally intensely religious and far more conservative in their views that most of the other colonies.

And the only way that Sarah Porter and her followers would accept any decision was if that decision was blessed by her Gods.

Canlisle stood up, and just from her height and bearing suddenly commanded the room. "We do," she said as she stepped down to the floor where the various representatives waited. "It was not that long ago that our sister Elosha confided in me that she had found the leader anointed by the gods as foretold in the Book of Pythia. In fact, much of what has happened can be found in the Book of Pythia, so much so that we overlooked the fact that Pythia was but one Oracle."

The oracle stepped to the smaller Sarah Porter and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "But sister, the Sacred Scrolls are not one book. There are Six Books, are there not? The Book of Dione told of the Birth of the Lords of Kobol and their creation of man and beast. Dione told us of the first Kings of Kobol, and the first laws of Man."

"She's good," Hermione whispered.

Canlisle stepped from the cowed Porter and made a slow circuit of the table. Unlike the first meeting, she wore the full raiment of her office, with a gold brocade hung over the shoulders of a deep crimson robe, and a matching golden head peace like a secured scarf over her head.

"Didymai told us of the great sins of those First Kings, and how they angered the Lords and were thrown from the Devine Gates to toil in the mud like the animals. From her we learned of the darkness in men's hearts that not even the Gods could excise."

"In the Book of Trophonia we first learned of the Blaze, born from the seeds of men's evil, and the first great war that we now know was against machines just like those we now flee from. The war raged for five generations before the Blaze was banished from the skies of Kobol. "

The woman had a magical, lilting quality to her speech. It reminded Harry of American evangelicals. More importantly, he could see that she had every Colonial held spell bound not just by the power of her words, but by the sheer skill and passion with which she delivered them.

"In the fourth Book of Sybillia we learned of the many kings of the tribes of man, of their laws and their passions. We wept at the beauty of the Psalms of King Andar and raged in grief when the walls of Lebadaus fell. But most importantly, it is in this book that the coming of Pythia was foretold."

She stopped behind Roslin. "It was from Pythia, in the fifth Book, that we learned of the Blaze's return to Kobol, and the sacrifice the Lords of Kobol made so that mankind would live and flee to the Twelve Colonies. All this has happened before, she told us, and all would happen again. And so it did, and so we are here. But few think of the last Book of the Sacred Scrolls, the Book of Apollo."

This time, she moved to step behind Harry, who fought hard not to turn and look up at her. He stiffened when he felt her strong hands rest on his shoulders.

"Brothers, sisters, it is no coincidence that the oracle of the lost tribe is named Apolline. It is no coincidence that their leader was born himself under prophecy. This is how it is, and how it has always been."

To Harry's surprise, Canlisle then sang. It was not quite a monotone, but more of a timed chant.

"Heed then the annointed, voice of the lost children,

Born in the seventh heaven, born of flame and strife and death;

From the wilderness comes he, and death shall be his.

He is the sun, from his light others may see;

the voices shall cry and the stars shall weep;

Alas, Alas Kobol, forever are your children lost.

Alas, Alas Kobol, forever shall your children be found,

Among the stars shall we be born, and among the stars shall we return!"

Every hair on Harry's body stood on end. Hermione actually half rose form her chair, while further down the table Madeline Hooper actually jumped to her feet, while William Stennis stared.

"Admiral Potter," Stennis said into the silence that followed. "Wasn't there a rumor about the Deathly Hollows? Something about you being the Master of Death?"

From the front row, the other well-known Colonial Oracle, Dedona Selloi, stood and joined the floor. She moved to stand behind Roslin, next to Admiral Adama. It was Cassandra who spoke, though.

"Harry Potter was born under a prophecy. The prophecy foretold a child born as the seventh month died. When Harry was a child, a dark wizard of our home world attacked his home and killed both his parents, but through an act of powerful sacrificial magic from his mother, the spell that should have killed him instead gave him that scar on his forehead. Years later, Harry personally destroyed that wizard, just as foretold."

The whole thing felt like a performance, and Harry began to wonder if that's what it was. Because suddenly Roslin herself spoke up. "When…" She cleared her throat. "When the oracles gathered on Admiral Potter's ship, he…joined the circle. When he did, I could feel his…his…"

"Magic," Yolanda Brenn said, from the last chair of the stadium seating. "His magic was so powerful that it guided us. I'd never had a vision so clear as when we joined that circle. From his hands, our eyes were open. We saw." The youngest of the oracles pointed at the picture of the habitat. "And we saw that. The gods showed us that place for a reason. We're going there. Not just for a little while. That's going to be our home, and the birthplace of a new race of Man."

"Because," Canlisle finished, "we can never return to Kobol. Among the stars shall we be born, and among the stars shall we return."

"I need to go back and reread those scrolls," Hermione muttered breathlessly. "Harry, how do you keep getting into these things?"

He shrugged. "Dumb luck, I guess."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"Congratulations, Admiral," Adama said after the room had cleared out of all the civilian leaders. "You've been appointed as our messiah."

"I wonder if they'll call my holiday Harrymas. Or…Pottermas?"

The older admiral's eyes flashed. "Do you think this is a joke?"

"Admiral…Harry deals with bad things by making equally bad jokes," Hermione said. "And this…this is…Cassandra? Really?"

Without the elected leaders from the quorum or the admiral's advisory council, the table held Adama, Roslin, Harry, Hermione, Delapina, Cassandra and Dedona Selloi. And the air was as tense as it was during the larger meeting.

"Mrs. Potter, this wasn't…entirely her idea."

The entire table turned to stare at the President of the Twelve Colonies.

"Mind explaining that, Madam President?" Adama said in a low growl. "Because I guarantee that Sarah Porter is going to tell her followers that a foreign head of state is the Anointed One of Apollo!"

"Because he is, Bill Adama," Selloi said sharply.

"That's news to me," Harry said dryly. "I know I was appointed as the head of NAMPO, but I didn't know I had any other appointments. Does it come with a pay raise? Dental? I think one of my wisdom teeth may be impacted."

Hermione slapped his hand. "Harry, stop, please. Cassandra, this is serious! We've just…you've just basically told the fleet that Harry is Jesus. We could have convinced them without having to manipulate their religion!"

The seer's smile made Harry feel somewhat uncomfortable.

"Well, he did die at Voldemort's hands, and was reborn in time to save our people."

"He didn't die! Voldermort's curse struck the soul fragment in his scar, not Harry himself!"

"I…did die a little," Harry said.

"What?" Hermione's tone went flat.

Harry held up his fingers. "Maybe a little. I was…only mostly dead."

Cassandra shook her head. "Hermione, I can see the future. I can see the past and present. But it was my sisters who saw the obvious."

"When he joined the circle, I saw," Selloi said in a breathy voice, sounding as if she'd just rushed up a staircase. "That scar, it marked him. You told me yourself, child, that the scar resembled a symbol in one of your lost languages for the sun, did you not?"

Hermione reared back, as if slapped. "It…bears a resemblance to the sowilo rune in the younger Futhark script, that's true. But…"

"Child, he _is_ the sun. He is a child of Apollo as spoken of in the Sacred Scrolls. We didn't see it because we didn't know his story, who he was and how such a young man came to be leading your fleet. Just as Laura is the anointed leader of the Colonies, who before this was a school teacher." Selloi turned to the simmering Adama. "Tell me, Bill Adama. If Laura Roslin had not been with you, would you and this fleet be alive today?"

The old man stared at the diminutive priestess with a hard expression that she didn't shy away from for a moment. "No, probably not," he admitted after a long, heavy pause.

Cassandra looked at Harry's wife. "Hermione, would any of us be alive if not for Harry?"

Hermione looked at her husband pensively. "He's…actually, he's been saving my life since I was twelve. So it's a different question for those of us at Hogwarts. But…no, we'd have never made it off earth without him. He didn't do the design work, he didn't even build the ship. And yet I can say without Harry…we'd have never left earth."

"The journey is all but finished," Selloi said. "We're so close, Adama. Those of us here, now, have led our people to the edge of a vast ocean of space. But the water's deep, and they're afraid. We cannot be a terrestrial species again. Not just because of the Cylons, but because our future is in the stars. The Book of Apollo told us this, two thousand years ago. 'Among the stars shall we be born, and among the stars shall we return!'"

"Admiral, I don't pretend to believe all this," Harry said. "But if my being a figurehead is what it takes to get your people to that habitat, then I'll do it. It wouldn't be the first time. The way I figure it, getting there is only the beginning. We're going to have to figure out how to repair it. And fuel it. Somehow you're going to have to figure out how to put jump drives on the bloody thing since the whole point is to be able to run if the Cylons come."

"And then what?" Adama asked.

"Short term? We make raids on your old Colonies to pick up any civilians left alive. Raid for materials. We'd want to go back to Kobol for usable soil and plant life. Food crops and what have you. Probably figure out what you want to do about the _Pegasus._ But mainly? Live. Figure out how our ancestors built that damned thing and copy it, again and again. Build up the infrastructure necessary to thrive! Like I told your quorum, Admiral, I just want to live. I want my wife and kids to live."

They sat at the table, looking at each other for several long minutes. It was finally Cassandra who broke the silence.

"The Quorum would have split if you pushed the habitat," she said. "I don't know your people, but Eriana Canlisle does. She assured the Circle that the Gemonese and Virgons would have insisted you find another planet to settle. Pointing out the many, many similarities between Harry and the anointed one of your Sacred Scrolls was the only thing that would turn the tide."

"And any planet you found, the Cylons would find as well," Selloi said.

"What's to keep them from finding us in the Dendrite Nebula?"

"The same thing that kept them from attacking you at Ragnorak Anchorage," Selloi said.

"The radiation affects them more."

"I approved the idea, Bill," Laura said with a brittle calm. "I've not known Sarah long, but I know she's a woman of deep conviction with a large following in the fleet. And she would not agree unless we…" She shook her head and let out a little laugh. "Gods, Bill, you can't imagine what it was like in the circle. Seeing like that. We have to go."

"Bill, if it helps?" Delapina gave the older admiral a wry smile. "That system is so full of Tylium it would take generations to mine it out—even if we were at pre-holocaust population levels. And it just so happens that the _Polyphemus_ from my group is a tylium mining and processing tender."

The two Colonial officers stared at each other for a long moment. Harry sensed this was a theme with Adama—he never seemed to speak unless he knew exactly what he wanted to say.

Now, he evidently wanted to strangle the younger officer. "Why didn't you just start with that? Frak, the tylium alone would have been reason to go. Why all this?"

Delapina grinned. "I'm a simple man, Admiral. With all this talk of prophecies and anointed ones, it just seemed wiser to keep my mouth shut."

Harry snorted.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

That night, back in their own quarters, Harry rocked the nineteen-month old Lily in his lap. He read one of the classic children's books that somehow, someway Hermione thought to pack, while his beautiful little girl's eyes grew heavier and heavier. Finally, when he knew she was on the verge of sleep, he carried her to her toddler bed and laid her down. "Ny-ny, Dada," the little girl whispered.

Harry couldn't have explained it, really, why his eyes suddenly filled with tears that ran down his cheek. While he liked to think his emotional depth was deeper than a teaspoon, he just didn't have the words to describe the intense welter of emotions in his chest as he stared down at this beautiful, innocent child.

He carefully ran a hand through her thick head of bushy black hair and smiled at how she turned into the touch, murmuring gentle nonsense. And for a brief second, Harry could see her as she would be. Running with other faceless children, grinning at her first wand fitting; in a glistening white dress with a veil over her face.

 _I love you, Daddy_.

The vision passed. Harry leaned back from the bed and wiped his eyes.

"What a mess I am," he whispered to himself.

He stepped out of Lily's room just in time to see Hermione step out of the nursery, adjusting her nursing bra as she did. She met his eyes and then frowned.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Just like he did with Lily, Harry stared at his wife's face and saw a vision of what would be—of her joyous smile as she taught a room full of young mages their first magics. Of holding his hands at their son's wedding.

Of sitting on the edge of a strange, enclosed world in quiet, happy contemplation as time finally left them by.

Abruptly she was there, her hands on her cheeks. "What a mess you are, Harry Potter," she said. She kept her voice down for the children.

"Yeah, guess so. Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?"

"It has been rather busy," Hermione admitted.

He wrapped his arms around her but didn't squeeze too tight—he knew her chest was sensitive after feeding James. "You are beautiful," he told her. "I'm so glad we went on that birthday dinner date."

Hermione laughed in his arms. "You just wanted to shag."

"Well, yeah. What bloke wouldn't?"

"Sorry, Space Jesus, you're not getting lucky tonight," Hermione said a she left him for the bedroom.

Harry never expected to. James was just now two months old—Hermione wouldn't start feeling normal again when it came to sex for at least another four or five months. It was a price Harry was happy to pay, as he entered James's room to wish his son a good night as well.

Life, Harry decided, was good.

* * *

A/N-The producers of nBSG decided that the Colonial religion would not just be mumbo-jumbo, but actually have an impact on the story. This played itself out with Starbuck's story, and with the Head-Five of Baltar, and the Head-Baltar of Five. It became the 1000 lbs gorilla in the room in this story, so I decided to just slap it head-on and deal with it.


	31. Weighing Anchor

A/N: Reviews are nice. But I've said repeatedly that I don't write just for reviews. Rather, I write the stories I want to read, and then share them without whoever wants to also read. That's why I don't tend to draw-out stories at the end for a few extra reviews. For most of my stories, when I hit the last few chapters, I post them all at once. And that's what I'm doing here.

Chapters 31-33 are the last chapters of this story. So when you finish this chapter, keep reading. There will be two more to end.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-One: Weighing Anchor**

November 23, 2013 (Day 132 CH)

Even with the vote of the Colonial Quorum and the blessings of the Mage Advisory Council, Adama wasn't willing to risk the entire fleet based solely on the advice of the oracles. Even so, the task force that arrived in the Dendrite Nebula made no doubt as to the admiral's commitment to the task.

Commander Chrysanthos Delapina led the taskforce, commanding the _Asteria_ and the smaller Colonial frigate _Eleos_ as the taskforce's defense. On the civilian side, the task force included the _Polyphemus_ for mining the tylium which served as the fuel for the jump engines of the fleet, accompanied by the _Kitei Kan_ refinery ship.

The last ship was the _Astral Queen_ , which Harry was surprised to discover was the prisoner ship that previous housed Tom Zarek. It surprised him to discover that the prisoners had volunteered for a labor detail in return for full pardons.

"What were their crimes?" Harry asked Delapina.

"Half of them were part of Zarek's terrorist organization," the commander admitted. "It was… complicated. Sagittarians made the Gemonese look sophisticated. They were dirt poor, and most of their history was spent fighting civil wars. When the Twelve Colonies consolidated, they fought against Caprica for almost thirty years before they were finally defeated and a puppet government was put in place. Zarek led a guerilla faction against that government. He lost."

Political prisoners. Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised as he sat in the bridge of the _Franklin_ and watched his own Captain Goldstein fly the ship into a docking area large enough to hold many of the ships of the fleet. The Colonial judicial system wasn't quite the same as what he was used to. Nor, he had to admit, was the UK not without its history of politically motivated violence.

The _Valkyrie_ couldn't quite fit in the anchorage, but the _Astral Queen_ was able to fly inside the docking area as well.

While the _Franklin_ didn't have external lights like most Colonial ships, the titanium plates they used as their domes were able to channel charms through the various runes on them. To aid the colonials, Goldstein ordered all the plates to carry the basic _lumos_ charm that every first year mage student knew.

The result was the _Franklin_ lighting up like a brilliant disco ball.

What the light revealed was an ancient but incredibly intricate docking system, with a dozen platforms set at regular intervals for docking vessels. But dominating the space was a circle fifty meters in diameter. Harry could see the edges of what looked like a sphincter-style door.

" _Franklin, this is Asteria actual. Barry, can your ship fit?"_

Captain Goldstein sat calmly in his chair set to one side of the bridge, a cup of steaming coffee in a cup holder on his chair, and a bagel lathered with cream cheese in hand.

"Chrys, it shouldn't be a problem. The orifice is three times the diameter of my ship. We're proceeding inside."

" _Excellent. I've sent the Raptors with the survey crews in behind you, if you can light the way."_

"Will do. _Franklin_ actual out." He chuckled. "I love Colonial military talk. It reminds me of my navy days, before I joined the American auror division."

"I imagine having a kid as an admiral just drives them to distraction," Harry said with a grin.

Goldstein winked as he started in on his bagel.

While the Colonials picked their ships for the roles they would perform, Harry committed the _Franklin_ as a tender and transport. Like all the mage ships, the _Franklin_ 's expanded dome carried food crops and animals that would be feeding all those working on the anchorage project.

"Mr. Weston, take us in," Goldstein said.

The young man in the pilot's chair nodded. "Aye-aye, Captain."

The navigator beside him, who reminded Harry a little of Angelina in the set of her cheeks, snickered at the Star Trek reference.

The _Franklin_ drifted easily into the main habitation chamber of the cylinder. The chamber was at once significantly smaller than even one of the domes of the _Invincible_ , while at the same time offering exponentially more surface area. Harry didn't quite get why until Hermione explained it to him.

" _Harry, yes, the interior domes of our ship are sixteen kilometers long and four and a half kilometers wide, but the living area is a single two-dimensional surface. That's just 75 square kilometers for each dome. But you take a cylinder that's six kilometers long and a kilometer in diameter, and that increases the area exponentially. If our dome were a cylinder instead, why…we've have a surface area approaching all of the Great Britain, if not more!"_

Harry still couldn't quite wrap his head around the mathematics of it, but then again he didn't need to. Those he loved and trusted did the work and assured him that if they could get this anchorage working, it would provide more than enough surface area for all the surviving Colonials to live, with plenty of room to expand.

The _Franklin_ used viewing mirrors just like the _Invincible_ , and Goldstein and his crew used them to good effect as they flew into the chamber that dwarfed their ship. Colonial raptors flew by on either side, taking advantage of the ship's lighting.

The first and largest feature was the massive tube that ran down the center of the cylinder. At what looked like one-kilometer intervals, massive spokes radiated out from that center tube, tapering toward the surface. The smaller raptors flew side-ways at low speed, inspecting the tube with their own high intensity beams.

"What do you make of it?" Harry asked.

"First guess? Interior lighting and heat," Goldstein said. "The whole tube is fully incased within the asteroid, so it can't use sunlight, even if there was enough sunlight to power it. As to what runs it? I'd have to say that any civilization advanced enough to build something like this had fusion. The Colonials do."

" _Franklin, this is Raptor 245. Requesting 100 meter surface fly-by. We need you to get a little closer if you can."_

The pilot answered. "Can do, Raptor 245."

Of course, within the safety of their artificial gravity field Harry felt nothing but watched as they drifted away from the central tube and came closer to the interior surface of the habitat. With a radius the length of five football fields, the _Franklin_ had plenty of room to maneuver. If not for the spokes, even the _Galactica_ could have moved around within the place.

Barely.

"It looks like some of the planets we explored," Harry noted.

Goldstein nodded as he swallowed the last of his bagel and pointed to the main viewing mirror. "The surface features look almost terrestrial. Hills and valleys, what look streams and even a wide river bed in the middle. No mountains that I can see, but it looks like the builders went out of their way to add a variety of terrain. Sciences, what can you tell me?"

"Ice water everywhere," the young woman at the science station said. "On the surface, floating free in the interior. Given the absence of centripetal forces, the sheer amount of ice on the interior surfaces makes me think everything froze quickly, before the rotation ended. But there's enough water in this place to fill the Lake Erie, Captain. Maybe even more than that."

"Water, terrestrial surfaces," Harry muttered. "Why did they abandon it?"

They flew at a crawl, hovering just fifty meters off the surface so the raptors could do their recon. They had to maneuver occasionally around the spokes, but even then the space between the structures was vast enough to pose no danger. Harry counted the spokes down. There were four of the structures, and a close-up view revealed an alloy that Harry wasn't familiar with. It was completely black, but that's all Harry got from it.

It wasn't until they reached the very back that Harry saw what happened.

The hole was large enough for the _Franklin_ to fly not just out of the habitat, but out of the surrounding asteroid casing as well. They did so, followed by the raptors, and emerged in the sunward side of the massive structure.

All the surrounding material looked rocky, just like all the other rocky fragments in the nebulous remnants of the Dendrites star. But on the side facing the white dwarf, Harry recognized the signs of massive damage. The rock looked as if it had been melted into glass, with massive fissures just like the one they flew out of.

"Well, now we know what happened," Goldstein said.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"Dendrites went nova a little over twenty-four hundred years ago," Horace Saspit said.

The XO of the _Asteria_ reminded Harry a great deal of an old, dotty wizard. He lacked the wisdom of a Dumbledore, but very much could have fit into Diagon Alley if he wore a wizard's robe. He was also the ship's only true, educated engineer and the closest thing to a scientist they had.

Fortunately, Barry Goldstein had an honest-to-Merlin astrophysicist in his crew, a tall, gaunt-faced woman with iron-gray hair and an almost stereotypically long witch's nose named Miranda Aberdeen.

"From what I can see, this system had three orbiting bodies in addition to at least one gas giant," she said in a professor's lecturing tone. "Plus a fairly dense asteroid belt. When the sun went nova, it cracked those planets apart and severely damaged the anchorage. You wanted to know why they left it? They had no choice. The anchorage had no propulsion system that we could find, just station-keeping jets."

Delapina listened attentively to the mage before nodding. "In a way, I'm actually relieved. If we'd found a perfect habitat just ready to turn on, I think our collective Colonial paranoia would drive us all insane. But this? This makes sense. Can we repair it?"

Saspit ran a hand over the short white beard he'd grown. "I got in there with one of the raptor crews. I'd have get my boots on the ground to be sure, but from what I saw the interior area is a layered carbon filament sheathing—pretty damned close to Battlestar grade armor plating. It has four fusion generators, but it looks like one of those is a redundancy. Fairly certain it runs on the good old fashioned deuterium-tritium reaction. And just from the recon of the system, we could find enough fuel to run those generators for ten thousand years just in this orbital plane. And even if they're broken, we can get them repaired easily enough."

Saspit leaned forward. "No, the fun part will be slapping a drive system on this monster. Something this size will require at least eight synchronized jump engines at even integrals throughout, and a computer system powerful enough to operate them. And drive thruster bells the size of the _Asteria_. But what a magnificent bastard she'd be. About as maneuverable as you'd expect in a small planetoid, but it's well within the theoretical limits of both our sublight and jump drive technology."

Harry had to admit that seemed pretty incredible, even to a mage. "What about the breaches?"

Saspit scoffed. "Ever patched up a nuked Battlestar? Breaches can be plugged. We'll need to message the fleet and get the _Virgon Express_ here. It's a fleet salvage and repair ship. It should have the fabrication facilities necessary to build out out more carbon sheathing. Say…six months tops. Less if those Sagittarian hooligans actually work."

"Commander, I have an idea about that," Harry said.

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Well, the _Franklin_ has a pared down crew because of the nature of the mission, but even so I have four thousand mage volunteers from our fleet who are willing to help. And it just so happens that one of the common spells in our repertoire, the _reparo_ spell, is designed to…well, fix things. I haven't suggested using it before because I was worried what it would do to your power systems. But things like rock or other hard materials?"

Beside Goldstein, Aberdeen sat up, eyes wide, and nodded. "Brilliant! A group casting would have incredible power behind it. The hardest part would be getting enough mages in space suits to actually make the magic work."

"The Asteria is stocked with four hundred," Delapina noted.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Kara Thrace walked with a forced swagger through the familiar halls of the ship. She nodded to Gaeta before she spotted the newly promoted XO, Aaron Kelly, standing at ops talking to the temporary and likely soon to be replaced CAG, Birch. The man was loyal to a fault and a fair pilot but was not command material.

She moved through the bridge to the admiral's ready room. She felt like she was a little girl again, about to bother her dad when he was busy composing. She knew that the division of the fleet after the then-commander was shot was largely her fault. She let the President talk her into going back to Caprica against orders.

But frak it all, there were too many lives depending on her to be a coward. And, of course, she was never one to back away from something scary.

Her two brief knocks were followed by a gruff "Come!"

She opened the heavy pressure door to find the Admiral on his couch with a pretty nice meal spread out on the table in front of him. Opposite the Fleet Admiral on his second couch sat President Roslin. The real surprise, though, were the final three people in the room.

Kara had never met Hermione Potter in person, but she'd heard about the Mage brain from Lee. He seemed to think she was attractive, but frankly Kara didn't think the woman was any more attractive than any other girl. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties, but a little frumpy from kids. Her hair was a frakking disaster. She had a little girl with puffy black hair in her lap and was actually feeding her little pieces of fried tubers.

Roslin was holding a little baby boy with a sure, confident hand, bouncing him gently on her knee.

"Wow, I'm sorry to interrupt," Kara said.

"Come in, Kara," Adama said. "Pull up a chair. Commander Potter, this is Lieutenant Kara Thrace, one of my better pilots. When she's not disobeying orders, that is."

"She's the one who single-handedly returned to Caprica and recovered the Arrow of Apollo," Roslin helpfully explained.

"Oh! The blood key!" The Mage had a strange accent, but then again Kara had never met anyone who wasn't a native speaker of Caprican. Even before the Great Unification of the Colonies, Caprican was always the Colonial trade language.

"Oh, well done. I heard that was quite the adventure. And of course, this is Lily," Potter continued. "And that's James." She nodded to the chubby baby boy in the president's arms. The president beamed.

"There's plenty of food," Adama said. "Courtesy of our guest. Help yourself."

Kara saw fresh fruit and nuts. The fruit were small, but peeled back to reveal a strange, delicate little orange. More importantly, there was what looked like thinly sliced roast of some kind, and real bread. Kara was too much a fleet hand to turn down food and sat.

"Thank you, sir, ladies."

It _was_ roast. It was the first roast she'd had since a week post holocaust. She knew the sounds she was making were borderline obscene, but she just couldn't help it.

"We were talking about starting to transfer the fleet to the Dendrites Nebula," the Admiral said casually. "Admiral Potter and Commander Delapina both report that they've located the anchorage and already begun repairs. The initial estimate of six months to a year did not take into account the labor-enhancing effect of mages."

Kara frowned at that. "Sir?"

"Think about Kobol," Adama explained. "Our foraging parties might have been able to recover fifteen to twenty tons. With the mages' we recovered thousands of tons of food, enough to feed the fleet for a year or more, with seed material for hydroponics going forward. They had a similar effect on repair times."

Hermione laughed happily. "Harry said Delapina put four hundred wizards in space suits and they cast a mass _Raparo_ that sealed hundred-meter-wide breaches in the anchorage's hull in seconds. Commander Saspit then spent a week just leading teams of mages around the place and pointing, and they cast the spell."

"What the h… is a rapair-o," Kara asked.

"Admiral, could I demonstrate?" Hermione asked.

"Please."

The mage mother looked around the office until she spotted a glass on a book shelf at the far end of the room. She removed her magic stick and waived it.

Kara tried not to choke when the glass floated across the room into the woman's hand. She then flung it against the wall hard enough to break it into three pieces, but not send shards flying everywhere.

"Would you agree it's broken?" she asked.

Kara nodded, biting back a smart-ass comment. No need to offend the freaky witch lady who could make things float.

Hermione dipped her wand. " _Raparo."_

The glass…flew back together again. A second later it floated back to her hand, and from there, the table. "The spell doesn't technically fix things, rather the magic forces whatever object is broken to restore itself to its original condition. So, when four hundred mages cast the same spell at the same time on a single object, the magic to restore it is massive."

"Why…?" Kara swallowed roast when she realized she was talking with her mouth full. "Why not use that on our ships?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "Magic doesn't play well with electricity. We were afraid of making things worse for you."

"But…but..Gaeta said that woman fix the computer core with magic!"

"Yes, a very special form of technomagery that not even I'm proficient at. If I'd tried that, I'd have destroyed your computer core. This power, Lieutenant, is something we're born with. But using it? That's something we have to learn. I didn't perform my first spell until I was eleven. And most of the magic I use on board consists of things I didn't learn until after I'd finished seven years of intense magical schooling. I pursued muggle sciences after I finished. Cassandra, our Oracle, pursued technomagery and astronomy as her interests. We are…well, not to put too fine a point of it, but we're among the best our society had to offer. If you think about it, we'd have to be to have even survived the destruction of Earth."

The strange thing is, that actually made sense. Moreover, it made Kara feel a little better. "So when Commander Delapina said that your husband took out an entire Marine squad…"

Again, the Mage woman smiled with a fondness that made Kara feel momentarily jealous. No one in that room had any doubt that Hermione Potter very much loved her husband.

"Harry is very good, Lieutenant. We didn't have a standing military, but if we did he would not only have been a general, he would have led our…special forces? That's what you call them right?"

It made her point.

"That's not why you came, though, Kara," Adama said.

Abruptly, Kara felt nervous again. Fortunately, though, the President saved her.

"You've come about the survivors on Caprica," Roslin guessed.

Adama put down his fork, having taken a large bite of the fried tubers himself. Hermione bounced her daughter on her knee.

"Yes, there are…what did Cassandra say? Over half a million or so survivors on the various Colonies."

Kara blinked. "I was just thinking about the hundred or so I saw on Caprica."

"Mama, another?"

Hermione shrugged and then gave another tuber to the little girl on her lap. "Our oracle can use our astrological navigation system to find individual humans. We can't see Cylons because they have no souls. It has been several months now since your holocaust, but between outposts and the planet she believes several hundred thousand of your people are still alive."

"What are we going to do?" Kara asked.

The admiral met her gaze squarely. "When we have a place to put them, and food to feed them? You're going to go save our people."

"Me?"

"You. You're the new CAG. Birch isn't working out. And Lee… I'm promoting him to Colonel and giving him the _Notus_. Tannith is a damned fine officer, but the crew was Hasters. I'm moving her to the Galactica to serve as the LSO. She was a flight jockey like you before she lost her flight clearance. She'll make a find LSO and a good third for the ship."

Given that both Kara and Lee essentially committed mutiny against the _Galactica_ , Kara tried not to admit how utterly shocked she was. Instead, she forced herself to snap off a solute. "Sir, yes sir!"

"At ease," Adama said, thoroughly unimpressed. "Start your plans. Even with the mage's help, the Dendrites anchorage has no atmosphere. They're farming it from the nebula, but they're going to need…" He pulled a sheet of paper off the table in front of him and pulled out his reading glasses. "A little under five billion cubic meters of atmosphere. Good thing the nebula is stuffed with usable gasses."

He put the sheet down. "Start making your plans."

"What assets will I have?"

"You tell me, Captain Thrace."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Each of the interior habitat domes of the _Invincible_ was sixteen kilometers long. Given that the ship itself was just over two hundred meters long, the distance inside was a miracle only magic could accomplish.

And yet, standing on the frozen, rocky surface of a giant cylinder made thousands of years before the founding of Christianity, before Caesar concurred the Britons, Harry couldn't help but feel a touch of awe as a six kilometer-long cylinder began to fill with light.

He could hear the Colonial engineers cheering as the first two fusion generators came on. Harry didn't quite understand initially that the generators were in the core rod itself. The rod just wasn't a light source, it was in effect a miniature sun for this miniature world.

" _Attention, attention! This is Colonel Haspit to all personnel. Commencing rotation start up sequence in ten. Repeat, commencing rotation start-up in ten!"_

Nearby, one of the other colonial engineers in the space suit shouted through their local channel. "You heard the Colonel, people. Get on the surface now, or get plastered on it later!"

Harry, like the rest, was floating a few hundred feet above the surface near one of the spokes. He watched as the Colonials deftly began pulling themselves 'up' the nearest spoke toward the surface. Up and down were relative only to the center rod, but that was still hard for Harry to get used to. It was as confusing, in its own way, as the Janus Room in the _Invincible_ , where the gravity fields of the two habitats met.

"Well, Admiral, shall we?"

Harry glanced over at the Franklin's resident science expert, Miranda Aberdeen, and saw her beaming like it was Christmas.

"Probably should." Unlike the Colonials, the mages in their all-volunteer repair crew had brooms. As Hermione told him in another world, in another time, brooms could fly in any condition. Even in a giant cylinder in space with wizards in space suits.

He, Miranda and the other ten members of their particular squad flew 'up' to the surface area where their accompanying Colonial escorts were. As they did so, Harry saw a white, misty vapor forming.

"What is that?"

"Outgassing," Miranda explained. Over the Colonial speakers, her voice sounded even more tinny than normal. "The moment Saspit turned on the first generator, the interior started warming up. It'll get worse before it gets better. Expect a lot of rain."

The thought of rain in the interior didn't actually surprise Harry. Their own habitats experience micro weather patterns as well.

One of the colonials was waving at them, and so that's where they headed for. They came to a landing, having to work to orient themselves so that their feet were pointed relatively down. The Colonial, an enlisted man named Specialist Lataiern, offered them straps.

"It's going to be pretty rough when the rotation first starts," the older man said with the confidence of experience. "These are secured deep enough to give you something to brace against. Sit down by your strap and hold yourself down as best you can."

Harry did as instructed. Beside him, Miranda and the other mages also complied. Though he couldn't see with his bare eyes, he had no doubt others were doing the same throughout the cylinder. Overhead, the third generator turned on, and the surge of power seemed to pass a threshold. The whole tube began to burn with a bright, yellow-orange light. In a split second, they went from a low dawn to mid-day. Under the light, he could see stream beds begin to steam and pop loudly in the still relatively sparse atmosphere of the interior.

The ground under him rumbled, but from the briefing he knew that was the shifting of the ice layers in the soil, not actual movement.

" _Attention, attention. This is Colonel Saspit to all personnel. Environmental, report!"_

" _Environment, ready to go."_

" _Vertical axis regulators, report."_

" _Regulators show green and ready to go."_

" _Rotational drives, report."_

" _Drives show green and ready to go. Let's do this, Colonel!"_

" _All interior teams, report."_

One by one, all the repair and survey teams within the interior sounded off, including Specialist Lataiern. When all fifty of the teams checked in, Harry felt a tingle in his gut and couldn't help but grin through his mask. Around him, almost lost in the now foggy soup of gasses rising around them, he could see others doing the same.

" _Attention! All systems show green. Commencing rotational start up in five, four, three, two, one…Go!"_

The groaning sound reverberated through the entire structure, so loud Harry thought his ears were going to bleed. Underneath them, the ground _shifted_. If not for the strap, he'd have gone flying. Artificial hills cracked loudly; frozen streams shattered like glass and sent ice and water spraying into the fog.

The sensation of gravity (which wasn't really gravity, Miranda explained, just the illusion of it) returned slowly. It began as a feeling of falling, making his stomach churn and his butt cheeks ache against the icy, cement-hard ground. More streams cracked. Harry looked up and saw, across the small world directly above him, an entire river bed suddenly split open.

" _Alright, folks, we're at one rotation every five minutes. We will be gradually increasing rotation over the course of the day. Low gravity procedures apply until then."_

"Ladies and gentlemen, you just witnessed the start of a new life," Specialist Lataiern crowed.

Harry had to admit, he agreed. It felt a lot like he was witnessing living history.


	32. Home is Where the Nuclear Fusion Is

A/N: As state with the last chapter, this is the second of three posts this morning. Keep reading for the conclusion of _Invincible._

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Two: Home is Where the Nuclear Fusion Is**

December 31, 2013 (Day 170 CH)

Kara sat back from the sheets of notes and reports from throughout the fleet. She'd spent the past three days trying to figure out some way of getting over half a million people off Cylon-occupied worlds using only the assets of a fleet that was packed wall-to-wall just holding fifty thousand.

Military doctrine, at least what she learned in War College, dictated multiple incursions to draw enemy fire, then a wing of Raptors for the snatch and grab, followed by a hasty retreat all around. Rinse and repeat until no further civilians could be found, or the enemy tactics adjusted to render the plan inoperable. It depended on eyes on the ground to ensure civilian assets were ready for evac.

The problem was that all military doctrines assumed a certain parity in military forces. If they were going into enemy territory, there was always an assumption of, if not air superiority, at least a level of equity that gave them a chance to get in and out.

But the Twelve Colonies were completely controlled by more Cylon Raiders and base ships that Kara could even count without a computer.

With a frustrated sigh, she ran a hand through her short-cropped blonde hair and grabbed the glass of water. It was fresh—restocked from Kobol. Though she wouldn't mind some ambrosia, the water tasted good. She found herself looking at the droplets left in the bottom. In her mind, she remembered a similar glass floating through the air, breaking and then reforming.

That conversation stayed with Kara during her three days of planning and organizing. Because it felt like the Old Man had been trying to tell her something. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't trying. He _was_ telling her something. Something important. But it was up to her to pull her head out of her ass long enough to realize what he was saying.

He'd been talking about magic. Adama called it labor-enhancing.

"Oh Frak me," she muttered as understanding finally broke through. He wasn't really saying labor-enhancing. No, not in the company of the foreign head of state's wife. What he was really saying was _force-multiplier._

The mages were the ultimate Force multiplier. Their magic let them be invisible. One of their silly little stunning spells could have killed that tall, blonde Cylon bitch that beat the frak out of her in a second. Who knows what they'd do to the Centurions?

More importantly, the three Mage ships were invisible on DRADIS, and could be made invisible to the naked eye.

 _You tell me_ , the Admiral said.

"Frak me, it's a test."

Kara grinned and then started looking for the mages that had taken to hanging around the marines on the ship. She knew that one of the marines had taken up with one of the Mage cops on loan to the _Galactica._ Kara also knew there were a limited number of places where marines could have some privacy.

The marine barracks on the ship smelled like sweat, mold and men. A squad had just come off duty and Kara didn't bother hiding a grin at the bodies.

"Captain on deck!" a marine shouted.

"Oh for Frak's sake, I don't want to see any dicks while I'm in uniform," Kara said. "At ease and cover the fuck up! I'm looking for a Corporal Acathan?"

A few of the marines snickered. The sergeant on staff grinned. "Firing range, Cap'n."

"Am I gonna be interrupting anything?"

The man shrugged. "Knowing Acathan? Probably."

"What about out of uniform, ma'am?" one of the marines clad only in a towel said.

She grinned. "You couldn't handle me, private."

Kara threw off a lazy salute to the raucous laughter and left the showers.

The marines and fleet personnel shared the firing range just because of the space requirements. But there was a well-known convention that when an empty holster was hung across the hatch, that meant someone was looking for some alone time.

Kara considered just running in, but in an increasingly common show of frightening intuition, she remembered the freaky witch lady and the floating cup. Hermione Potter made a point of saying that magic was learned. So what kind of magic would one of their soldiers know? Though it took effort, Kara stilled the urge to run in and interrupt what undoubtedly was a fun time and instead knocked three times, followed by two more.

In the known code of the ship, that meant an officer was coming in, frakkin' deal with it.

She counted slowly to ten before turning the wheel and opening the sound proofed hatch. Inside, she found a pair of sweaty but fully dressed marines.

No, not marines. Acathan was a marine, a Tauron from the set of his cheeks, eyes and the darker tone of his skin. The woman, though, did not wear the BSG marine badges on her uniform. Instead, she wore a badge with a pair of crossed magic sticks.

Acathan snapped to attention. "Captain."

"Corporal. I was hoping I might have a word with your friend."

The woman cocked her head to the side.

"Boy, you Colonials are a frisky bunch. You're the second girl who wanted in on the action."

Kara…had no words for that. Acathan looked alarmed. "Um…Katie, that's…not what the captain's here for."

"No? But the other…"

"If the jacket's on, they're on duty."

"Oh." The woman shrugged. "Too bad, you're kind of cute. Katie Bell, Senior Auror. What can I do for you, Captain?"

 _She's not under my command._ Kara had to remind herself of that. "Captain Kara Thrace. I've been given a big task, and I'd like to talk to one of your people regarding capabilities for infiltration and rescue operations."

Katie suddenly grinned. "Oh, that sounds fun. Well, given our entire race lived along-side seven billion muggles and never let 'em know we were there, we're pretty good at stealth and infiltration. Proudfoot's back on the _Invincible_ , so you'll want to talk to Dennis, he's the captain in charge of those of us assigned to the fleet. Hold on a sec."

She pulled out a small mirror and tapped her magic stick to it. "Dennis, you there?"

The slim piece of mirror spoke back as clearly as if a fourth person were in the room. " _I am. What's going on? I thought you were off duty."_

"Oh, I am. There's a Captain Thrace who wanted to talk to someone about a possible rescue mission."

A second later—literally one frakking second later—someone else stood in the room. Kara jumped with a curse. She felt relief that Acathan did the same. That way neither would admit it.

The newcomer wasn't a tall man—actually he stood of a height to Kara and several inches shorter than Acathan and even the first auror there, Bell. But he also had a solid, muscular build that spoke of training and fitness. More importantly, he held himself with a calm, laid-back confidence that said, _'I will frak you up if you make me.'_

"Thank Merlin you're not naked, Katie," the newcomer said with a grin. "Almost burned my eyes out last time."

"And fuck you too, boss. My tatas are glorious and you know it. Acathan here agrees. With respect, and all."

The hapless corporal nodded dumbly.

The interaction between the mages was _not_ something Kara would ever see on a Battlestar. At least not without a hell of a lot of ambrosia involved. Though there was joking and teasing, showers and lockers were co-ed in the crowded war ships, which meant there had to be certain barriers the sexes did not break except in mutually understood circumstances.

For all the exposed dicks in the shower, she'd also seen a couple of pairs of breasts. It was just the way the Colonial military operated.

Dennis turned to study Kara intently. "Kara Thrace. Hermione told me I might be hearing from you. Dennis Creevey, Auror Captain, a pleasure to meet you."

He offered a hand, like he hadn't just frakkin' appeared from thin air. And you know what? Kara took it, grinning.

"Nice to meet you. So, I've been charged with trying to rescue half a million people, and was wondering how mages might help multiply my forces."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

In the absence of Admiral Potter, who was still working with the Colonials to repair the Anchorage in the Dendrites Nebula, command of the Mage Fleet fell to a huge black man with a bellowing laugh named Malcolm White.

The second senior-most captain was Dinah Patterson. The two sat at the head of a briefing table on board the impossible ship _Columbia_. Patterson joined their discussion, as did Hermione Potter and a wastrel of a fellow named Webber, leaving Kara and Creevey as the two visitors. Completing their meeting was an older woman with the ominous name of Sinestra, and the Mage fleet's chief medical officer, Samantha Barnes, who looked like a more educated, intelligent and less violent version of Kara's own mother.

What they were talking about left Kara both excited and flabbergasted. It was the only thing keeping her from gorging on the bowl of delicious nuts the mages called cashews which sat in the middle of the table.

"…more than enough lodestones," Webber was saying to the group. "We're not talking about full-fledged habitats. Two stones per craft, just like ours. Do a protean quantum link with the _Invincible's_ astronavigation center and a laptop to crunch the numbers, and boom, you're done."

When Kara went to Creevey, she was thinking about a few Mages on the ground to help gather up the civilians in secret.

She wasn't thinking about troop-transport sized ships that could hold a thousand people. And yet, after broaching their mission, and having Captain White bring in first Hermione, then Patterson, and then finally Webber and Sinestra, that's what they were discussing.

"So, who's going to break it to Potter that he can't go?" White finally asked with that bellowing laugh.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Admiral Adama reviewed the plan in his quarters. Kara stood beside Creevey, who was one of several hundred mages who had volunteered to go, along with marines from across the fleet who were even then being vetted to ensure the prolonged exposure to the magical lodestones wouldn't hurt them. From what the mages told her, it had to be a genetic marker that not all Colonials had. Fortunately, Kara evidently had it in sufficient quantity to get an odd look from the mage who tested her.

"They can build these?" the Admiral finally asked.

Beside Kara, Creevey shrugged.

"We talked to Ha…our Admiral last night. He said they're your people, so it's your call, but he's authorized us to take any action to assist as stipulated in the treaty. Hermione…Commander Potter said the shuttles were just slightly larger versions of our sleds, and we have enough spare titanium from initial construction to slap together at least ten. That won't be enough to get all of your people at once, but that's not the plan, is it?"

That was at once the most dangerous, but most brilliant part of the plan. They were going to set up a ferry of ships from the fleet sitting just outside the system to unload the mage shuttles. According to the Sinestra lady, the humans were scattered about all twelve of the colonies, so there weren't that many large clumps.

Which made a series of small, invisible stealth ships all the more important.

"How many men?"

It was in the report, but Kara knew he wanted to hear it from her.

"Mixed forces, twenty marines and ten mages per shuttle. The mages will fly it and locate the survivors. The marines are there mainly to assist with crowd control. Minimal risk, minimal time on the ground."

Adama made no sign he heard her. Instead, he reached over to a stack of papers on his desk and removed one second from the top, staring at it through his glasses. Creevey didn't seem to care; the bastard was actually humming under his breath.

Then again, he didn't answer to the old man. And he wasn't military, even if he looked like he could throw down with any marine.

"According to Delapina's last report, the Anchorage is up to full rotation and power," the Admiral said. "They have rivers running through the interior cylinder and the atmosphere is breathable in the first twenty meters of the interior surface, with projections finding the air breathable almost throughout when full. Per our treaty, the mages have already claimed one fifth of the cylinder for their own use."

 _One fifth._

Adama looked up at Kara. "Supposedly they already have crops in the ground. The mages are, by and large, an agricultural people. Commander Potter has assured me that with one fifth of the Anchorage, they can produce enough food stuffs to feed our entire population indefinitely."

"Sir?"

Adama let the paper fall. "We have some place to put them, Kara. The mission is a go, all assets approved. Go get our people."

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"Look at the blasphemers," Six whispered to Gaius. "Look at how they pretend to be human, even as they lead your people to disaster."

It was hard for the Vice President of the Twelve Colonies to concentrate with her lips so close to his ear. Especially not when the discussion of the day was a common medium of exchange and the establishment of a formal bank and reserve.

If he had been able to concentrate, he would have been fascinated by the divergences of opinion even within the mage community. The three representatives from the Mage Advisory Council were a study in contrasts—Howard Crenshaw was a tall, physically imposing man with unruly blonde hair and the beginnings of a beard on his jawline. He spoke in an odd drawl. Opposite him was frail, petite figure of Madeline Hooper, who Gaius understood had been hurt by the radiation that marked the 13th colony's death throes.

Oddly enough, while the Mages magic couldn't help her, the _Galactica's_ own Doctor Cottle had her on an anti-radiation therapy that appeared to be helping her. Take that, magic!

The last of the three was another tall man, though much slimmer than the muscular blond, named Donald Lauer. He was, to Baltar's dismay, an attorney.

Even witches and wizards had lawyers, it seemed.

In contrast to Colonies, the Mages did not have Temples to safeguard their riches. With the exception of Caprica, most temples served as repositories of currency for their colony, acting to loan funds when desirable, and to collect those debts. Everyone in the Twelve Colonies knew that the financial heart of any city was that city's Pantheon.

The mages, however, used a secular finance system which they described as banks. The currency the mages used was based on food, but they acknowledged that the system was imperfect and were arguing for the establishment of central bank to help establish a singular currency.

Porter was so distraught about learning that the Mages did not use temples as their financial institutions that she spent most of the meeting staring with a gaping jaw. Fortunately, Oswin Eriku of Libra, an attorney and former finance priest with the Temple of Athena and had taken the lead in the discussions on behalf of the Quorum.

"Betrayers, murders," Six continued her quiet, angry rant. He turned and found himself staring down the rich cleavage which had seduced him back on Caprica. The fact that he was the only one who could see her made him think he was somewhat insane, but given the fact they were talking about cubits versus knuts with actual, living witches and wizards, Gaius felt that insanity might be the wisest course of action.

The fact that his invisible paramour so openly despised the mages was a source of both confusion and some grim amusement. She was, after all, a Cylon ghost. And the mages, in the course of a single afternoon, rid the fleet of all of its Cylon spies.

"I personally think calling it the Temple Reserve Bank is a good idea."

Gaius forced himself to pay attention. It sounded like something was happening.

The speaker was the tiny red and silver-haired witch. "It acknowledges the history of your people's old financial systems while serving as central financial system independent of the various temples."

"Thank you, I think that will set many of our people's minds at ease." Oswin Eriku spoke like a lawyer—slow and deliberate, except when he was on the attack. Then he spoke a hundred words a minute with gusts up to two hundred.

All of the Colonials, of course, had to contend with the fact that the mages significantly outnumbered them. At least, that was, until they were able to recover more of their people from the Colonies.

"You'll see, Gaius, God will strike them all down. His wrath will be the thing of legends!"

The discussion turned toward the transport of people to the Dendrites Anchorage and ideas for a future singular government for both mages and colonials. The first civilians on board the _Enkidu_ were already in the Anchorage and more were scheduled to go, freeing up more and more ships for the rescue mission to the Colonies.

"They are the ultimate violation of Gods plan," Six was still ranting. She walked around him, trailing her hand sensuously across the shoulders of his best pinstripe suit jacket. "There is a way to make them pay, though. Their seers know where the _Pegasus_ is. If you were to contact that ship, I'm sure that they could…"

"Excuse me, I'm very sorry, but there is something I feel I need to bring up."

All eyes in the room, including both Gaius and Six, turned to the petite Madeline Hooper. In a split second, Gaius felt a thrill of fear.

She was looking right at Six.

"That man is possessed," the Mage witch said, pointing a writing pen directly at Baltar. "There is a Class IV Daemon standing right beside him, instructing him to break your admiral's orders and initiate contact with your rogue Battlestar to destroy the mage ships in the fleet."

What made Baltar's stomach drop was when the big blond man, Crenshaw, shrugged. "Huh, guess you're right. I just figured it was a ghost. The man's a squib, didn't I hear that right?"

"Ghosts aren't tied to individuals," Hooper said. "I had to deal with a Daemon once when I was in the American Department of Mysteries. It convinced its host to go on a rampage in Chicago, killing twenty Nomages before the Aurors were able to put the poor man down."

"Well, I'll give 'em this, it's the damned finest-looking daemon I've ever seen," Crenshaw said. "Those legs just keep going and going."

As the other Quorum members stood and backed away, staring at Gaius in various expressions or horror, it was the third mage, Donald Lauer, who fired the kill shot.

"Actually, I'm fairly certain she is one of the humanoid Cylons. Which means that whatever guilt the man carried to form the Daemon was related to that particular model."

"I don't understand, what are you talking about?" Sarah Porter demanded.

The petite witch stood and walked around the table, clutching a cane as she did so. "Our people's magic can sometimes spontaneously manifest as spiritual apparitions. Sometimes our magical energy can be left behind when we die, forming ghosts or poltergeists. Normally, those without magic cannot see such apparitions.

"Sometimes, though, an event occurs that is so traumatic and damaging that it can cause an individual to manifest what we call a Daemon. A daemon, for our purposes, is a spiritual entity tied specifically to a host. It will influence that host, and can sometimes even provide that host information the host would otherwise not have. It is a semi-intelligent entity, and is almost always driven by malicious intent. Observe. _Spiritus Revelo!_ "

Robin Wenutu of Canceron and Alisander Asiel of Aeilon both screamed. Gaius, of course, couldn't see any difference in Six's appearance. What he did notice, though, was that everyone on the Quorum of Twelve was staring directly at Six.

"What blasphemy is this?" Six demanded, eyes blazing in rage. "God will strike you down, all of you…"

"Your Cylons are all monotheistic, aren't they?" Donald Lauer noted dryly.

"They are." Marshall Bagshot looked both horrified and angry. "And that is a Cylon. There were fifteen of them among the Fleet."

"Now, let's not be hasty…" Baltar said.

The petite which clicked her tongue. "At this stage in our negotiation, I don't believe we can do anything without your express approval. But I can tell you from my own studies that anyone possessed by a Daemon represents a risk to your people. I would strongly recommend you secure him until your people can decide what to do."

Gaius despised Porter's look of pity and horror. "Is there…what can be done for him?"

"The Daemon is an extension of his own being," Huffington said. "Destroying it will harm him. The normal treatment method is a long-term course of psychiatric treatment and potions. It is the living embodiment of guilt, a guilt so powerful that it caused his almost non-existent magic to manifest."

"Gaius," Bagshot said, shaking his head. "It was your navigation program that let the Cylon's just sweep through our fleet. Admiral Adama told me. They had to use the old Vipers from the museum because anything newer with your program was destroyed. Gaius, what did you do?"

"Gaius, you fool, run!" Six ordered. "You've got to kill them all before they tell the rest!"

One of the two marines serving as security of the meeting had been walking toward him. Gaius jumped the woman, surprising her with his sudden assault. He managed to rip her weapon from its holster.

"Shoot the blasphemers!" Six shouted.

He pointed the weapon right at Hooper. He fired twice; the woman did something with her magic wand that created a shield in front of her. The first bullet cracked the shield. The second slammed into her shoulder and sent her spinning.

A second later, Gaius Baltar's head shattered as the second marine fired.

* * *

A/N: One last chapter to go...


	33. Home

A/N: I present the conclusion to Invincible. Thank you for reading.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirty-Three: Home**

January 31, 2014 (Day 201 CH)

A single raptor appeared in a tear of light. It floated in the dark within view of the planet below. Ten more appeared behind it in quick succession.

"Frak me," Kara Thrace said from the pilot's seat of the lead Raptor.

The skies over Caprica burned.

"Count sixty basestars," Racetrack said. "No frakkin' idea how many raiders."

The Cylons were firing on each other. Basestars were not Battlestars. They weren't designed for nuclear slugfests. Rather, they were designed to jump in and unload missiles and raiders in fast numbers to overwhelm their Colonial opponents.

What she saw at the moment were ships engaged in warfare they were not designed for. Even as she watched, a basestar erupted into a line of flames along its arms before shattering and going dark with loss of air and power.

"Squad two reports fighting over Aerilon," Lt. Carson's reported. "Squad Three says the same about Picon. What the frak is going on? Wait…Captain, we're getting a tight-beam transmission. It has Colonial ID, but it's the old code."

Thrace glanced at Racetrack, who shrugged. "You're the boss."

"Put it through," Kara ordered.

" _This is Colonel Saul Tigh, formerly of the Battlestar Galactica. Who am I talking to?"_

Shaking her head, she said, "You're a frakkin' cyclon."

" _Thrace? Frak me. Yeah, I'm a Cylon. And let me tell you, that was a helluva way to wake up and realize you're a frakking toaster! But you listen here, and you tell the Admiral. I never knew. I didn't have any programs in my head because I was one of the first five! The other models boxed us up and sent us out 'cause the whole point was us stopping the war, not starting it! This wasn't what we wanted! Those of us sent back? We're fixing things. The centurions never wanted to come back, it was a few of the broken skinjob models we'd made. So, we're fixing it."_

Kara shook her head. "What does that have to do with anything, Tigh?"

" _I got as many people as I could up in the old Garanda District, north continent. We managed to pull about fifty thousand out of the farms and camps there. If you're here to save people, that's where they are. The rest…frak me. Gotta go. You do your job, Thrace. For once in your life don't frakkin' back talk and do your gods-damned job! You save those people."_

The signal ended.

"You believe him?" Racetrack asked.

In the distance, two more basestars exploded.

"Yeah," Kara decided. "Yeah, I do. Send the signal, all companies report here, we'll hit the Garanda district. Fifty thousand is about all we could handle right now anyway. Let's go!"

~~Quintessence~~

~~Quintessence~~

"DRADIS Contact! Admiral, we have a DRADIS contact at CBDR!"

Admiral Helena came walked over to the console, looking up with alarm. "What do we have, Colonel?"

"Single raider, looks like," Colonel Jack Fisk said with a scowl. "Buzzing us."

"Set Condition One throughout the ship," Admiral Cain ordered. "Have alert fighters prepare to launch, but do not launch until ordered."

"Yes, Admiral," Fisk said, quickly relaying the orders.

"Admiral," Major Shaw said. "I'm getting Colonial transponders."

"That's a new trick," Fisk said. "Using our own signals now? Wonder what else they have up their sleeves?"

"We're getting a signal."

Cain's smile turned positively predatory. "Oh, this should be good. Put it through on speakers."

" _Battlestar Pegasus, this is Raptor 241 from the_ Battlestar Galactica _, Authentication Codes transmitting. Be advised_ Galactica _is in bound. Do not fire!"_

"Galactica?" Fisk exclaimed. "Wasn't she mothballed?"

"She was about to be," Cain said. "Shaw?"

"Admiral, I'm receiving Colonial authentication codes. They check out."

"DRADIS contact! Capital ship size…more contacts! Admiral, we have an incoming fleet!"

"Signal from _Galactica Actual_ , Admiral," Shaw said quickly. "Codes Authenticated. I'm also receiving authentication codes from the _Asteria, Eleos_ and _Notus._ Looks like they also have fleet tenders and Tylium mining ships and a lot of other civilian ships."

"Put him on."

She took town the handpiece from overhead. "This is _Pegasus_ actual, to whom am I speaking?"

" _Admiral Cain, it's a pleasure to hear you voice again,"_ came the rough, aged growl of William Adama. " _It's my pleasure to welcome the_ Pegasus _back to the Colonial Fleet."_

"Commander Adama?" Cain's smile switched from predatory to relieved. "I can't believe it! It's a miracle!"

" _Fleet Admiral,"_ Adama corrected. " _The President of the Twelve Colonies and the Quorum of Twelve have been reestablished. A lot has happened. Please shuttle over with your senior staff for a briefing."_

Cain's smile faltered. She lowered the phone and looked at Fisk, who shrugged. "Very well, Bill," she said, intentionally leaving off the ridiculous claim of fleet admiral. "I'll see you soon."

"This doesn't smell right," Shaw said. "Sir," she added.

"No, it doesn't. Fleet admiral?" Cain scoffed. "I am the ranking officer in the fleet. Caprica was destroyed, I don't know who they think they are."

She turned to Fisk. "You stay here. Get alert fighters in the air. Have our boys play nice, but get visual inspections on all the ships out there. This is a Mercury-class Battlestar, they don't have any thing that could take us on. But having a fleet tender and Tylium would go a long way to taking the fight to the Cylons. Shaw, you're with me."

Admiral Cain moved through her ship with a determined stride. Beside her, Shaw walked quickly while checking her side-arm. A squad of marines fell in with her as they made their way down to the port-side launch bays.

Shaw piloted, with Helena herself riding shotgun to get a better view of the fleet. Once in open space, she couldn't deny the fact that she was looking at the _Galactica._ Most of the old girl's armor playing was removed, exposing the structural ribs underneath. Even so, it was an impressive piece of history that showed its share of battle scars.

Nearby, she could see the _Asteria_. The _Valkyrie-_ class Battlestar was even more deeply scarred than the _Galactica_. It only had two functioning engine thruster pods. The _Orion_ ship was so small as to not be a threat at all.

Shaw brought the Raptor into the _Galactica's_ flight pod with a sure, competent hand. Helena watched intently as the lift dropped them down into the bay. And inside?

A reception waited for them. A sea of Colonial uniforms in parade rest.

She led Shaw and her marine contingent off the Raptor and onto the floor. A marine shouted an order, and the assembled officers and crew snapped to attention and saluted, as was only proper for a flag officer.

Waiting for her stood Bill Adama in what looked like a new Fleet Admiral uniform, complete with the epaulets and the star cluster. But what surprised him with the officers flanking him.

Chrysanthos Delapina wore an admiral's uniform and insignia, equal in rank to her own. Opposite the admiral, Horace Saspit now wore Commander's pips.

She reached Adama, who stood at parade rest.

 _The son of a bitch really thinks he outranks me?_ Surrounded by his men, she knew he had the cards at the moment. Things would change once she was back on _Pegasus_. She had the biggest, most powerful ship. For now? A smart officer knew when to play along.

Plastering the same smile she used to make Nagala think she respected him, Admiral Cain saluted. "Permission to come aboard."

"Granted," Adama said. He returned the salute, and only then offered his hand. "Helena, it's good to see you. I'm sure you remember Chris, and Horace."

"I do," Cain said.

"If you'll come with me, we have refreshments and an interesting debrief ahead," the old man said.

Cain followed along, content to play until she had her guns at hand.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

Colonel Jack Fisk looked up in surprise when the squad of marines stepped into the CIC. This surprised him because they weren't _his_ marines.

"At ease," female marine shouted. "Back away from your consoles. Hands in the air!"

"What the frak is going on here?" Fisk demanded. "Sergeant, who are you and what are you doing on my ship?"

A colonial officer stepped into the bridge. Fisk felt like he'd just been punched.

Sela Tannith had aged surprisingly well from the young lieutenant that Admiral Cain had hounded after. Fisk remembered her arrest vividly, and also remembered the scuttlebutt when instead of a court martial for attempted blackmail, she simply received a reduction in rank.

No one wanted the real story to get out.

What concerned him, though, were the Commander's pips on her collar.

"Jack," she said with a nod.

"Sela." Fisk forced a swallow. "Two things. How the frak did you get on board, and why are you on board?"

"The War's over," Tannith said. "The Cylons are fighting each other in a civil war. The colonies are dead—the planets are too irradiated to be safe. Instead we were able to find a legacy anchorage made by the Lords of Kobol themselves that is sufficient to safely house our surviving population."

Fisk opened his mouth, then closed it to process a little more. Finally, he found what he needed to say. "That's well and good, Sela. But why are you on my ship?"

"My ship, Jack," she corrected. "You ever here of a civilian transport named _Scylla?_ "

Jack blanched.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"You've got to be frakking kidding," Admiral Cain said.

The food had been incredible. Real, still warm bread with a spiced oil that reminded her very much of butter back home. Nuts and fresh fruit and real meat. It was the best meal she'd had since the Colonies fell.

And then the old fool ruined it.

"We have several dozen eye-witnesses and video," Adama said. "You personally ordered your office there to fire on civilians. You gang-pressed many and left the rest to die. Even in times of war, you violated the Uniform Code and the very purpose of the Colonial Fleet. Our job was to protect and save civilians, not murder them."

"Do you think you can actually do anything?" Cain said. "The _Pegasus_ was one of the most powerful ships in the Fleet, and could run circles around anything you have. You try to arrest me, and you will be fired upon."

The door opened and a young man entered in what looked like a vaguely Colonial uniform, but a completely nonsensical patch. Crossed sticks?

"Admiral Cain, this is Admiral Harry Potter, the sovereign leader of the Mage Fleet and an ally of the Colonies," Adama said. "Admiral Potter, what's the word?"

" _Pegasus_ is secured," the ridiculously young man said. "Commander Tannith has already arrested those officers under suspicion. She also found humanoid Cylon in the brig." The young man looked at Cain with a flat, cold expression. "She's been tortured and raped, repeatedly. She begged us to put her down."

"Did you?" Adama said.

"It seemed the most humane thing to do." Potter walked around the conference table and sat to one side.

"You're fools if you think you can get away with this," Cain said.

"No, Helena, you were a fool to think you could murder civilians without consequence," Adama said. "You won't be alone, though. You can share a cell with Colonel Hasters. I understand the two of you have a great deal in common. Marines, arrest this woman."

Shaw had her side arm pulled before the marines took a single step, only to fly up onto the ceiling, as if somehow gravity had reversed itself. Cain turned and stared into a pair of cold, hard green eyes and a stick pointed at her.

"How'd you like to spend the next twenty years as a dog?" the young man asked.

~~Invincible~~

~~Invincible~~

"Come on, Munchkin."

Lily Potter rolled her eyes impatiently. "I'm not a munchkin!"

Donald Malfoy laughed. "Sure you are, munchkin!"

"I'm not!" The six-year-old girl stomped her feet impatiently. "Mom, you tell him!"

Hermione sighed tiredly. "You are a Munchkin, dear. But you're _my_ Munchkin, so it's okay."

Lily pointed at her little brother, who stood nearby happily sucking on a candy. "He's the Munchkin."

"Nope, he's the Gnome," Malfoy corrected.

James nodded happily. "I'm the Gnome!" he agreed. He tended to agree with everything Donald said.

Harry walked out of the bedroom of their house, handsome in his dress grays. He paused with a happy smile. "My goodness, what a beautiful woman!" he said with a smile at his wife.

Lily preened. "Thanks, Daddy!"

"He was talking to your mom, Munchkin!"

Harry laughed and scooped Lily up. "Don't worry, you're beautiful too!" he said, before blowing a raspberry into her neck and eliciting screams.

Which, of course, woke Sirius from the sling Hermione carried their third and final child in.

Rather than start screaming, he mewled a little before Hermione plugged his crying hole with a pacifier.

"Is everyone ready?"

The ten-year-old blonde made a show of examining everyone. "Looks like, Uncle Harry."

"All right, let's go. It's not every day I get fired!" Harry couldn't restrain a glowing smile at the joke.

They left the house together and for the waiting crawler transport. Their orchards already bore fruit and promised another good crop of oranges and cashews.

As they piled into the open transport, the uniformed driver gave then all a nod. "Big day, huh, Admiral?"

"Yes, Derry, it's a big day."

Past the fusion tubes that lit the anchorage, Harry could see clouds gathering on the far side of the habitat. Looked like they could expect rain in the afternoon.

They reached the road that meandered through the Anchorage. To the left, a river ran down the length of the entire structure. Three more parsed the interior habitat, spaced with various lakes and open bodies of water in a carefully balanced cycle to ensure the biosphere of the habitat remained hydrated and healthy.

Soon enough they left behind the fields of the Mage quarter and entered the parkland and urban areas of the Colonial section of the Anchorage. The tallest buildings the Colonials built never passed ten floors. Any taller and the gravity grew weak enough to be disorienting.

Half a million colonials fit surprisingly well within the habitat. It amazed Harry to this day just how much surface area the interior of a giant cylinder had. Even so, the Anchorage Authority was already working on another anchorage, copying this one in design and employing both Colonial scientific expertise and Mage craft to make an even larger habitat that could house many millions of people.

Even with magic, the project would take twenty years to complete.

The Memorial Pavilion that served as the center of Anchorage Life was, like a lot of architecture in the sealed habitat, both simple and eloquent. Large metallic ribs similar to the exposed superstructure of the Battlestar _Galactica_ rose up to form supports for a sloped roof that provided shelter from the daily showers, but otherwise left the space within empty.

Everyone was there, of course. Harry put on his politician's smile and shook hands with all those people who brought them to where they were. Daniel Webber stood grinning between the Patil twins holding one of his four children while talking about a new jump drive engine with the chief engineer from _Pegasus_. Dr. Barnes and Healer Tonks were holding court with a bevy of nurses, new and old, while trying to browbeat a curmudgeonly old doctor from _Galactica_ to dance with them.

Admiral Adama himself led a dance with former President Roslin, who was now serving as the Matron of the Oracle's Circle. The old man said something that made Roslin laugh; it was a free sound.

Chris Delapina was dancing with Dinah Patterson, and Harry had to admit the American mage looked good in a sparkling white dress. All around them, children ran to and fro, stopping occasionally at the buffet for snacks or drinks. He and Hermione took a spin on the dance floor, before he and Neville switched partners and he took Hannah for a spin.

Finally, though, the porters rang bells to bring everyone to the seating area. Harry gave his wife a long, loving kiss before kissing his third child on the forehead, hugging his two older children, and then thoroughly mussing up Donald Malfoy's perfectly coiffed blond hair.

"Uncle, stop!" Donald said, though without heat.

The Prime Minister of the Anchorage Authority took the podium to begin his opening remarks. Harry took his seat on the stage next to Adama.

"How's Sirius?" the older man asked.

"Already better," Harry said. "Ear infection."

"Lee had them all the time," the old man said. "We still on for Sunday?"

"The beer should be nice and cold," Harry agreed.

At the podium, Marshall Bagot, formerly the representative for Virgo in the Quorum of Twelve, was finishing his remarks.

He turned to face those on stage. "Will President Porter of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, and Admiral Potter of the North American Magical Preservation Organization Fleet please step forward."

Sarah Potter, the last president of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol, stood from her seat just as Harry left his. The two approached the table where the large Anchorage Authority charter had been placed.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Bagot continued with a grandiose tone. "By the signing of this charter, the old organizations which guided us to this day will be dissolved, and the future will begin. President Porter?"

He stepped back and let Sarah give her remarks. She spoke passionately about the pain of the colonies death and the hardship they all experienced. She spoke fondly of their meeting of their cousins from Earth, and how honored she was to have served, however briefly, as the last President of the Twelve Colonies.

With those words, she stepped to the Charter and signed as President, formally dissolving the legacy government she'd led.

"Admiral Potter?" Bagot invited.

Harry stepped to the podium. Tens of thousands of people stared back.

"Almost ten years ago, over an intimate dinner, I told the love of my life that I wanted to have children." He glanced down at the first line of seating reserved for family, where his wife and Donald were trying to keep their three children under control. "And she told me our world was going to die. Needless to say I had to wait a bit for kids."

The audience laughed, as he knew they would.

"We humans have an incredible capacity. The problem comes in figuring out what to use that capacity for. To create, or destroy. To lead and help, or to surrender to our baser instincts. Almost ten years ago, most of my people chose to surrender to what they saw as an inevitable death. But I refused, and I did so for one simple reason. After a lifetime of struggle for nothing, I finally had something. I had Hermione. I had my friends. I had a family. With so much to lose, I could not just lay down and die. And I was blessed to have others join me on this journey.

"When the magical nations of earth formed the North American Magical Preservation Organization, it was never intended to be permanent. Rather, it was intended to give Mages a chance to live. But always, there was one simple and fundamental rule. That whoever led it would step down once a permanent government was established.

"I'll admit that I always thought that meant when Mages found a nice little paradise planet and could settle down just like Earth. I never imagined this place, or our place in it."

Harry looked out across the audience, seeing so many familiar faces. Several rows back, he saw Brenda Laird with her husband, saved from _Pegasus_ and reunited at last. He nodded to her, and she grinned back.

"In accordance with the Articles of NAMCO, and with a great deal of pride and relief, I hereby relinquish my duties and authority as Admiral of the Mage fleet, and dissolve the NAMCO in favor of the Anchorage Authority. Thank you all, my friends."

He left the podium, and signed the charter. The roars from the audience filled the entire anchorage.

At long last, he was home.

 _ **Finis**_


End file.
